


The Burdens We Bear

by Texan_Red_Rose



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Blood and Violence, F/F, POV Multiple, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 16:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14752592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Texan_Red_Rose/pseuds/Texan_Red_Rose
Summary: Winter and Weiss, formerly princesses of Atlas, are being used as bartering chips by their father to secure an alliance with the feared Empress, who has ruthlessly conquered almost all of Remnant. However, there's more to the Empress and her enigmatic adviser than either of them know, but they remain wary. Will Yang and Blake be able to win them over? Or will they part ways?





	1. The Former Heiress Apparent

The Imperial Palace stood far taller than the castle back home, shadows hiding the ceiling as the torches failed to shed light throughout the impressive structure. Along the walls hung pictures of various landscapes, some part of Vytal and others across various seas, newly acquired holdings of the empire, and murals depicted the Imperial army falling upon their enemies with deadly and decisive force. A common figure appeared in almost each one, the Empress clad in her armor- standing taller than the other soldiers, a veritable giant among her forces, with a glittering golden helm and cape, wide shoulders and a stocky build. A smaller figure appeared in most, too, draped in red bright as blood, but Winter didn’t have an abundance of time to parse the significance as she was led along, shoulder-to-shoulder with her sister and brother following a few steps behind, their father ahead of them and a small retinue of guards to offer a bit of comfort as they walked through the enemy’s home, deep in hostile territory.

Over the past ten years, the face of Remnant had changed dramatically. How it started in Vale remained a mystery but Atlas became highly aware of the rising Empire when Vacuo fell and Menagerie, too. Mistral had held out for three years before they submitted and now only Mantle remained, with Atlas as the strongest of the Kingdoms there. King Jacques had proposed an alliance throughout Mantle, with himself as the head, of course, and many kingdoms agreed, if only to preserve their holdings. Some refused, though, and the King seemed content to let them remain independent of the alliance that stood ready to protect all of Mantle.

But the royal children knew better.

“I can’t believe you honestly think this will work,” Winter said, chin tilted up proudly. Clad in nothing more than a shift of white fabric tied at the shoulders made it difficult to carry herself with the same pride as befitted her station… but that wasn’t her place anymore. A heavy metal collar around her neck, the chain lightly beating against her chest with every step while keeping her bound wrists just above her waist level, and the thin sandals on her feet marked her not as the heiress apparent to the throne of Atlas but rather a simple slave- though, to some extent, she supposed her place truly hadn’t changed all that much, because one wasn’t born into the Schnee royal family with any modicum of freedom at their disposal.

“The reports are very clear,” her father replied, the crown resting against his temples reflecting fire and shining bright, a contrast to his snow white hair and pale skin. Indeed, they all looked out of place in a place where tanned skin and bright hair seemed to be the norm, but the King even more so, his heavy cloak embroidered with gold and blue at the borders, the white snowflake in the dead center of his back standing as both a sigil of their home and a target. “The Empress keeps a varied assortment of slaves. This is a means to secure an alliance- peace for our people.”

“You mean more power for yourself,” Weiss said, no longer flinching when he turned towards her sharply, hand raised as if to strike but stopping short. The scar across her left eye stood as a testament to the times he didn’t hold back but, considering they were about to be offered up as presents, he somehow summoned his restraint.

And she wasn’t wrong. The King had little interest in securing peace for Mantle; he wanted absolute power. With enough of the kingdoms already under his thumb, in a manner of speaking, all he truly sought was an induction into the Empire without a formal invasion, and the leave to take the independent kingdoms by force. From there, he would do what he did best: connive and scheme, plot for the Empress’ assassination and prepare for his own ascension to the throne of the Empire. Of all their father’s qualities, none could compete with his ambition.

“You will  _hold your tongue_.” His eyes flashed dangerously, peering down his nose at Weiss. “Or I’ll suggest she have it removed first thing. No one has any use for a mouthy servant.”

Winter balled her hands into fists. First and second born children, royal by blood, reduced to bartering chips- it made her blood boil, but she remained outwardly calm. She hadn’t been idle in the weeks since being informed of the decision; she’d analyzed the situation, considered the ramifications of every actions, and knew only one thing.

They  _had_  to escape.

There was nowhere to run to, no one to trust, and no hope of truly surviving the mess, but she wouldn’t submit to another’s will. She wouldn’t allow her little sister to be used for someone else’s pleasure. It would likely mean a quick death… but at least they’d have their dignity.

Their father turned away to continue down the hall to the throne room, where the Empress awaited them. The two guards standing beside the tall doors regarded the Atlesian royalty and their small retinue of guards with mild disdain and a touch of exasperation before opening the doors, revealing a magnificent throne room easily three times the size of the one back in Atlas’ castle.

The whole room was awash in a golden glow from the sun setting behind the throne, fires burning in sconces and pits scattered throughout, and people talked quietly, some dressed in strange but fine fashions while others wore varying suits of armor- leather, chain, heavy plate. Some were archers and others carried their weapons on their hips or back, swords and axes and maces and all manner of staffs. 

And in the throne- the seat wide enough for Winter and her sister to comfortably sit side-by-side- was the Empress, wild blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, a crown settled about her temples, dressed in leather with glimmering bits of metal scattered throughout the ensemble and a fur of some beast settled on her shoulders, its paws tied at her neck to keep it in place. Even from a distance, the broadness of her shoulders and the thick, corded muscles of her arms and legs could be seen, and as the Atlesians drew closer, the furrow of her brow made lilac eyes shine all the brighter from a mix of curiosity and confusion. Seated behind her, previously preoccupied with a meal of some sort, a Faunus with raven dark hair and bright amber eyes leaned closer and whispered something to the Empress, receiving a nod in reply.

Then she stood, clearing her throat before speaking, voice a low, even drawl. “Greetings and welcome to Her Imperial Majesty’s court.” The feline ears atop her head flicked, flattening out into a straight line. “That’s far enough.”

Winter felt no small amount of gratification at how quickly her father halted nor how much it pained him to do so; ever since assuming the throne, he’d used Faunus as a scapegoat for all manner of ills befalling the land, turning the people against their countrymen. For him to be ordered by one now… if nothing else, she could take solace in knowing that this Faunus appeared to speak for the Empress and would remain above him in station.

It was a small comfort.

“Greetings, Your Imperial Majesty,” her father said with a booming voice, bowing at the waist. The guards followed suit and Whitley too, but she and Weiss stood tall, wearing inscrutable masks that likely passed for contempt considering the quirk that appearing in the Empress’ brow. “I am King Jacques, ruler of Atlas. I entreat you: listen to my offer. There’s no need for bloodshed between our armies when Atlas is willing to join the mighty Empire.”

The Faunus turned her head, speaking rapidly in a language that sounded like nothing Winter had ever heard before, nothing at all like the tongues of her homeland. Beside her, though, Weiss stiffened.

“This isn’t going to work,” she said, glancing towards her sister, but a sharp look from their father silenced her.

“Her Imperial Majesty is willing to hear your request,” the Faunus said, crossing her arms over her chest while her liege leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and watching intently. “But first, she asks why two of your number are bound and chained.”

“Of course.” He swept an arm towards them, stepping aside so the Empress had an unimpeded view of Winter and Weiss. “Atlas wishes to see no bloodshed upon Mantle’s shores. We have united many of the lesser kingdoms under our banner and wish to join the Empire.” He snapped his fingers. “We offer these two daughters of Atlas as a sign of our servitude to Her Imperial Majesty.”

Unfamiliar hands grabbed at her shoulders and it took everything in Winter’s power not to shudder or turn away as gloved fingers pulled at the knots holding up her shift, the fabric falling away to leave her naked before the Empress’ throne. Beside her, Weiss faltered as she was similarly stripped, ducking her head for a moment before raising her chin up, defiant despite the tremble in her shoulders.

Gritting her teeth so hard it felt like they might crack and clenching her hands into fists, she ignored the bite of her own nails drawing blood.

Blonde brows rose to the woman’s hair line before she shot to her feet, bellowing out something in her native language that sent a flurry of activity throughout the whole hall, not even her attendant immune as she immediately dropped her gaze to the floor and stepped behind the Empress. All others- the people who milled about, the guards, the servants,  _everyone_ \- dropped their gazes as well, those with shields hiding their faces behind them, some even turning their backs to the spectacle.

It soothed her dignity, some, until the Empress stalked forward, the Faunus falling into step behind her. Quick, long strides, descending the small staircase that lead to the throne with a purpose as lilac eyes changed to something more akin to blood red, expression twisted into something ugly in her fury.

“Your Imperial Majesty, please-” The King stepped back, surprised by how quickly she moved, that conniving mind of his running fast as it ever had to try and find a way to survive angering the Empress.

But it seemed his panic was all for naught as she ignored his presence completely in favor of barking out a quick word to her attendant and reaching up to untie the fur about her shoulders, throwing it over Winter’s. It wasn’t the length of a cape or cloak, but the Empress stood a few inches shorter than herself and about that wider, and the thick fur was much warmer than the shift. It left a thin strip of her backside exposed but… well, the  _majority_  of the… Empress’ property was hidden away, and as much as her gut churned to the allow herself that thought, bluntly confronting her reality would keep everything in perspective. The moment the Empress accepted, the moment Atlas didn’t stand the chance of being invaded out of spite, then all bets were off. 

A quick word from the Empress and her attendant had followed suit, pulling the long black coat affixed to her shoulders off and draping the fabric around Weiss as best she could without looking.

“My apologies, Your Imperial Majesty.” The King chuckled, bowing again. “I didn’t mean to cause affront. I simply thought you’d like a preview of the gifts we offer-”

“Did not give permission to speak,” the Empress said in slightly broken Atlesian, her consonants harsh, either through ill practice or anger it was impossible to say. Blood red eyes fell on the man, lips twisting into a sour expression. “Daughters?”

He hesitated before responding, faltering for perhaps the first time in his life, and it mollified Winter only a little to see him squirm. “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, they are daughters of Atlas-”

“ _Yours?_ ” A single syllable, growled through clenched teeth.

“Oh, of course, Your Imperial Majesty- only the best for you.” He puffed his chest out, as if proud of the words tumbling from his mouth like fragile excuses. “My daughters are willing to serve you, just as all of Atlas is. We are your humble servants.”

At that, the Empress directed her burning gaze up into Winter’s eyes, searching… for  _something_. She couldn’t be sure what but she knew one thing for certain: as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t spit in the woman’s face while the fate of her people hung in the balance. Stripped of her title, she had no duty to them, but for well over twenty years, she’d been raised with the expectation of one day assuming her mother’s throne. That her father took it for himself, twisted it, and pulled her birthright beyond her reach didn’t matter; they were  _her_  people.

It was that very conviction that her father relied on for her cooperation thus far. It galled her that something which  _should_  have been one of the finer points of her personality actually provided her downfall.

Winter stared back into blood red eyes, not faltering, not bending or breaking, and hoping beyond hope that she could keep the woman’s attention. If nothing else, she could protect Weiss from the Empress’ searing gaze, and it seemed that she’d done just that when the woman shifted her attention to Whitley.

“Son?”

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, that’s my son, Prince Whitley, heir to the-”

“King,” the Empress said, gesturing to the crown at his temples, and then towards Whitley. “Now.”

“I…”

The Faunus uttered a few quick words, receiving a nod from the Empress before speaking again, this time to the bemused man. “Her Imperial Majesty decrees that you relinquish your title and pass it to your son. Atlas is now part of the Empire; he will rule your lands as her proxy and servant. You are to serve a different purpose.”

It made Winter sick to this his blasted gambit had worked but she did her level best to keep the snarl from her face as he pulled her grandfather’s crown from his temples and quickly handed it off to Whitley.

“Of course, as Her Imperial Majesty commands.” He settled the crown on his son’s head with pride, stepping back and looking to the Empress, like a dog awaiting a treat but Winter could only see him as a wolf with blood on his jowls.

The Empress said something, rapidly, and it earned a nod from the Faunus. “King Whitley, Her Imperial Majesty would like you and your guards to take two steps back.”

“O-of course.” He swallowed, turning to look at the captain of the group. “Do as she says. Two steps.”

As they moved, metal clinking and leather creaking, Winter sent a prayer to whatever power might have a hand in shaping the world; he’d followed their father around like a lost puppy, but her brother hadn’t learned anything aside from his ambition and his lust, neither of which boded well for the people of Atlas.

For a moment, all was still, and then the Empress nodded to her attendant and turned towards Jacques.

“There’s something you should know, Your Majesty.” She intoned, a grave sort of finality in her words as amber eyes held the new King’s gaze. “You are member to the Empire now, all of you. We are bound together by a sacred duty: to bring peace to the lands. You serve Her Imperial Majesty’s will, and her word is absolute. The Empire will not hold past transgressions against you and your people but any aggressive action taken henceforth will be considered sedition and treason, neither of which will be tolerated. Pacts like these are not paid in the Empire by pounds of flesh.” Her eyes narrowed, ears flattening against her skull. “They are paid in blood.”

Like lightning, the Empress’ arm shot out, hand grabbing hold of Jacques’ throat. His eyes widened, nearly bulged out of his head as he tried to pry the woman’s grip open, but her fingers tightened, clearly cutting off his air as he began to choke. Winter watched, numb, as the woman used her other hand to grab his forehead while yanking back with enough force to tear the man’s throat out, blood spattering the floor of the throne room.

As her father fell lifelessly to the floor, Winter supposed she should feel something- pity, sadness, horror- but all she could process in the moment was a deep sort of satisfaction.

It served him right that his ambition should lead here, to an undignified death in a foreign land.

With a single growled word, four guards with shields still covering their faces drew shoulder-to-shoulder and began marching forward, in step, with halberds in their hands. Once close enough they could see the dead man’s blood oozing out onto the throne room floor, they turned their weapons around, using the jutting blade on the backside to stab into him, then retreating the way they’d come. Another shout and the room began to empty, people scurrying to whichever exit seemed closest- wide open doors or servants’ corridors, it didn’t matter- and the Faunus spoke up again.

“Your price is paid. Atlas is now under the protection and rule of the Empire,” she said, tilting her head forward. “Her Imperial Majesty commands you send five hundred born and bred Atlesians to the capital at once. No harm shall come to those you send and they will remain here for three years before being sent back to Atlas.”

“Wh-what are you going to do to them?” Whitley- bereft of father’s guiding hand and faced with the task of returning home as the sole surviving member of the royal family- looked as white as his hair, horror flashing in his eyes.

The Faunus gave no answer, merely directing her gaze to the ground as doors were pulled shut all around the room- all save the way they entered. With the heavy tromping of her boots, the Empress moved to stand before the new King, leaning forward to growl in his face.

“Go.” She jerked her chin towards the doors. “ _Now_.”

“Y-yes, Your Imp-perial Maj-jesty.” He bowed, much lower than his father had, and turned tail, the royal guard following confused and conflicted, the whole lot of them sounding like mice scurrying away from a cat before the last set of doors closed.

That left only Winter, Weiss, the Faunus, and the Empress in the throne room, the former two covered just barely by a fur cloak and a silk one respectively while the other two exchanged words rapidly in their common language.

“Winter.” Weiss tried speaking softly, wincing as one feline ear flicked her way.

“Follow my lead,” she replied, steady as stone even as the red drained from the Empress’ eyes, reverting them to lilac.

The woman heaved a massive sigh, setting her hands on her hips and shaking her head, words falling from her lips like water over a fall. Winter couldn’t understand a word of it but the tone sounded… annoyed, chiefly, with a bit of… was that sorrow pulling her lips into a frown? Whatever it was, her attendant could only reply with a helpless shrug.

Finally, the Empress turned her attention to Winter, the cadence of her speech slowing to make each syllable distinct as she pressed a hand to her chest. “Yang Xiao Long. Yang.” 

Then she extended a hand towards the Atlesian.

“Winter,” she replied coolly, regarding the outstretched hand for a moment before flicking her gaze back up. “I have no other name now.”

Awkwardly, the Empress let her hand hang there for a moment longer before withdrawing, reaching up to adjust her crown and muttering something.

“She’s trying to introduce herself.” The Faunus clarified, spreading her hands. “Her Atlesian isn’t… the best, but she’s trying.”

“And Her Imperial Majesty may try all she likes,” Winter said, trying to rein in the vitriol in her voice, moving her hands beneath the cloak just enough for the iron links to clink against each other. “I’m in no position for pleasantries.”

Understanding splashed across the Empress’ face, a quick series of words accompanied by a motion that looked like the turning of a key. At which point, the attendant simply pointed towards the doors- likely conveying that the only people who  _might_  be capable of releasing them from their bonds were just summarily dismissed from the Imperial Palace and likely at a full run for the harbor.

In the next second, a quick motion of the Empress’ arm had Winter stiffening, mentally preparing for the incoming blow, while Weiss flinched, the solid  _smack_  of leather gloves impacting flesh echoing in the empty throne room… but rather than strike her new slaves, the woman had merely slapped a hand to her face, sighing heavily and muttering something that sounded distinctly like a curse.

“Sorry,” she said, wincing. “Was angry. Did not think.”

The Faunus replied with something that had to be along the lines of ‘not the first time’ considering the look shot her way, but after another sigh the Empress made a motion towards Winter.

“Yang can break them off.” Raising her hands, the Faunus approached slowly, as if dealing with a wounded animal. “It may be a little uncomfortable for a moment, though.”

“Free my sister first,” she said, nodding towards Weiss as a plan- a poor one, to be sure, but a plan nonetheless- formed in her mind.

Without question or hesitation, her request was met, with the Faunus carefully maneuvering the cloak so Weiss could bring her hands out in front of her, as much as the chain allowed, while the fabric preserved her modesty, held up by the attendant with her head turned away as the Empress first worked free the bindings at her wrists and then forced the pin out of the hinge on her collar, the metal tossed away with a sneer. After being freed, the cloak was draped over Weiss’ shoulders again, even as she rubbed the stiffness from her wrists and looked over at Winter.

Her gaze flicked towards the balcony behind the throne, hoping it would be enough to convey her intent even as the fur was pulled away from her. She offered her hands, allowing the Empress to pry the shackles open with nothing short of immense brute strength, warping the metal. From up close, Winter could see the definition in every muscle in her arms, put on display by the vest and short sleeve tunic beneath, and her core, exposed in a way that would be unseemly and perhaps a touch foolish in the mild chill of an Atlesian spring. Stocky and well built, but every wall had a weak spot, and as fingers brushed against her neck to work her collar open, she looked at her sister again, noting the anticipation looking back at her. The Faunus had her head turned away again and the Empress focused on the collar; they had a chance, and hopefully the drop from the balcony wouldn’t be deadly.

As the collar was pried away from her neck, Winter wasted no time. Lowering her shoulder, she lunged forward, knocking the Empress off balance even as she threw a punch to her gut- a weak one but it brought forth a gasp of surprise, and Weiss elbowed the Faunus in tandem to bring her to her knees.

And then they ran, straight for the setting sun, feet slapping against the stone as they couldn’t afford to slow or falter. The stone railing only came up about waist high so they didn’t have to bother climbing over the thing, jumping up and hurdling it as best they could- a slightly more difficult task for Weiss, considering her shorter stature.

But they made it, falling down into a wide, deep pool just below the balcony, sending water spraying into the air as they sunk down beneath the surface. For one horrifying, disorienting moment, Winter nearly breathed in the water, but managed to catch herself in time and swim, breaking the surface just a few feet shy of the edge as another splash sounded, and she frantically searched for her sister.

“Weiss!” A moment later, the younger of the two surfaced, coughing water but keeping herself afloat as she tried to scrub the water from her eyes; she never liked swimming, couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open underwater after earning the scar across her left one. Winter reached out, tugging on her sister’s arm while trying to swim for the ledge. “Weiss, come on, we must-”

The words died in her throat as another broke the water’s surface, already at the ledge- the Empress, hefting herself out of the water with ease, splashing on the tile and the grass beyond. As she stood, Winter began treading water, casting around for some alternative-  _any_  alternative- and finding none.

When the woman turned, she expected to see those blood red eyes again, but instead found lilac glancing her way before being directed up, hands settling on her hips as water dripped off her still. If anything, she looked frustrated, perhaps annoyed, but not angry.

“Injured?”

Weiss stiffened, finally clearing her eyes enough to see  _why_  her sister had stopped them both from swimming forward, the two sharing a worried glance. It was never a  _good_  plan, but it was all they had at present, and now they were effectively backed into a corner, with the high walls of the Palace at their backs and no hopes of swimming to either side before the Empress could get there herself.

“Winter,” her sister said, tenuously maintaining her composure. “What are we going to do?”

“If I may make a suggestion?” She couldn’t be sure  _how_ , having kept her attention focused on the Empress before them, but Winter suddenly found the Faunus dropping down into a low crouch beside her liege, carrying the cloaks that had covered them previously and handing the fur one back to the Empress, though neither put them on again. While the latter kept her gaze skyward, the former had her back turned to the pool, speaking over her shoulder. “Come out, dry off, and allow me to show you to your rooms. You both undoubtedly need rest and perhaps food.” They remained silent, long enough for the Empress to mutter something. “And Yang wants to know if either of you are injured. It’s… quite the fall from the balcony.”

Winter’s brows furrowed, not so easily deceived. “Does your master know you take such an informal tone?” 

“She’s not my master; she’s my friend.” The Faunus sighed. “I know you’re disinclined to believe me, but what I say is the truth: you have nothing to fear from her.”

“You honestly expect us to believe that?” Weiss puffed out a bitter laugh. “Do you take us for fools?”

“If you keep acting foolish, then I’ll be forced to,” she replied, turning around to face them though she had her eyes closed, relying on the sound of them treading water to direct her expression. “You want your freedom and you shall have it; Yang keeps no prisoners, at least not the sort you’ve been lead to believe she does.” She knelt down at the edge. “I know how hard it is to believe; I heard the same stories you no doubt did when I was brought here.”

Winter narrowed her eyes. She liked to think herself rather attuned to reading postures, pulling signs of deceit out of the best facades, but she found no hint that the Faunus lied. And given the way the Empress shifted, as if reliving a painful memory, the shame that seemed to come to her expression for a brief moment… it certainly  _seemed_  genuine.

“I come from Menagerie, from before it was part of the Empire, and I was offered up as tribute much like you were.” Her lips curled into a small smile. “I even jumped off the balcony to try and escape like you, and broke my leg when I landed.” She reached down, gloved fingers breaking the water’s surface for a moment. “Yang dug this pool herself after that, to prevent anyone else from getting hurt.”

“You honestly expect us to believe that.”

“Then test us yourself.” The Faunus swept an arm towards the Empress. “You believe yourself slaves? Speak, and see what reaction you get.”

“We want to leave,” Winter said, calling the bluff for what it was. “Stand aside and let us go.”

“Go to where? Atlas?” The Empress’ voice held curiosity but no disdain, trepidation but no scorn.

“Winter… we can’t go back.” Weiss spoke softly, shaking her head. 

That much was true; they couldn’t return to their homeland. Their father had made it rather public that they were to be offered up as slaves to the Empress, and going back would mean shackles, collars, and more ‘masters’ to serve.

“Anywhere except Mantle,” she said, looking up to find the Empress shifting her gaze, lilac meeting blue. “Where we go is no business of yours.”

And much to her surprise, the woman nodded, holding up a hand. “Five months. Learn languages, cultures, food, and skills. Go now, have nothing. Only struggle.”

“Stay here for five months and you’ll teach us what we need to know.” She scoffed. “And what is the price for so high an education?”

The Empress inhaled deeply, as if trying to keep from becoming frustrated and just barely managing. Finally, she spoke. “Smile. Find happiness. Live life.” She nodded. “Be free.  _That_  is price.”

Winter frowned, glancing down at her sister. Her suspicions remained- more than sensible, she thought, considering the circumstances- but if she had to trust the Empress’ word, then she had to make it count. “Swear that my sister will come to no harm-  _none_. No one will lay a finger on her-”

“Winter-”

“Hush, Weiss.” She shook her head. “We can’t even be sure she’ll keep her word, but I  _must_ do what I can to protect you.” Defiantly, she looked into lilac eyes. “I’ll handle whatever plans she has for us.”

“Swear,” the Empress said, tapping her attendant’s shoulder and stepping back, giving them plenty of room at the edge of the pool and both kneeling down, offering up the cloaks with bent heads. “No harm. Honored guests.”

Winter sighed, not yet ready to feel relief at the declaration. She couldn’t be sure, couldn’t  _allow_  herself the luxury of letting her guard down, but swam to the edge of the pool and got out, taking the fur from the Empress’ hands and wrapping it around herself as best she could, ignoring the chill in the air as the sun began to set. It wasn’t nearly as bad as back home but she also didn’t make it a habit to walk around the royal castle naked.

The Empress spoke a few short words before turning away, heading off to attend to some other duty no doubt while the Faunus bowed to them.

“Please, follow me; I will take you to your rooms.” She paused, turning to shout something at her liege, which was answered with a gruff response and a shrug. “Would you prefer to share a living space or have your own rooms?”

“Keep us together,” Winter replied, narrowing her eyes at how… unperturbed the Faunus appeared, as if they were discussing the weather, not the terms of enslavement.

“As you wish.” Without further delay, they were lead through a door on the northern side of the courtyard, through long hallways and up stairs, until they finally came to a wing of the palace with more guards patrolling the perimeter than they’d seen in the rest of the palace combined, the four standing by the great oak doors stopping them briefly to exchange words with Blake.

But Winter noticed how none of the guards would look anywhere other than directly at Blake, at the floor, or at the ceiling as they passed, and when they entered the wing, with the great big doors swinging closed behind them, the servants they passed paid them the same respect… but there were others. Nobles, had to be, walking around uninhibited wearing all manner of clothing- some of which she could hardly call such- and with weapons of all shapes and sizes hanging from belts or strapped to their backs. Their skin ranged from pale to bronzed to a deep chestnut, the languages falling from their lips alike and drastically different, some bearing paint markings on their faces while others didn’t, and they all nodded politely to the Faunus escorting the sisters. A few were Faunus themselves, one calling out jovially from the other end of a hall, monkey tail curling behind him.

“I recommend you speak to some of the people here,” she said, gesturing around as they proceeded deeper into the wing, past what looked to be a dining hall and a library. “They hail from all over Remnant and some may be able to teach you the things you wish to learn: languages, skills, cultures and customs.”

“Who  _are_  these people?” Weiss glanced through a door way, where more shouted what sounded like encouragement to two combatants enjoying a friendly spar.

“They are like you and I, those sent to Yang as tributes. Early on, when Yang had just barely united Vale and Vacuo under her banner, bad blood made this place a target for saboteurs, so you will find many guards here, but they are here for your protection. If you wish to leave, they will not stop you.” They climbed another set of stairs. “But I suggest you take Yang up on her offer. In five months, you can learn enough to start a new life anywhere in the Empire you wish, and be welcomed as a local.”

“And these others haven’t because..?” Winter ventured as they came to a stop in front of a room down one hallway of many.

“We’ve found places here.” The Faunus smiled. “I did leave, for a time… but I meant what I said.” Her expression smoothed out into one of seriousness. “Yang is my friend, and she needs someone true at her side. She’s not as strong as she likes to think.”

“She  _did_  rip my father’s throat out, quite literally.” She shifted the fur a little higher. “I would hazard a guess that she’s plenty strong.”

“She… does tend to be rather to-the-point when angered.” Feline ears flicked back. “I’m sure she’ll apologize-”

“I’d rather she didn’t.” Winter tilted her chin up, not wanting to give her captors an ounce of leverage. “He did nothing but make our lives hell and sell us into slavery. I’ll shed no tears for the man.”

“… right.” With a nod, the Faunus opened the door, pulling back on a barely-there seam to slide it open, revealing an expansive space within. “This will be your living quarters during your stay. If they do not suit your needs, please let me know, and I’ll arrange something more to your tastes.” She bowed again. “You can ask anyone- those who live here, the guards, the servants, anyone- to send for Blake and I will arrive as quickly as I’m able.”

“No title? Formal address?” Weiss raised a brow, skeptical, which was good- they couldn’t let their guards down. Not even for a moment.

“No. Just Blake.” Her ears perked up. “And, please, if you happen to cross paths with Yang, just call her by name. She actually hates the title.”

“We’ll keep it in mind,” Winter replied, waiting for the Faunus to take a step back before entering the room. 

A large, four poster bed about the same size as the one she had enjoyed for most of her life seemed at odds with some of the other furniture, and she eventually realized that it wasn’t anything indigenous to the Empire at all, the room a mishmash of various Mantle kingdoms, the dressers and vanity both familiar and just enough  _off_  to hint and not being from Atlas at all. Still, the room was much better than a dungeon cell, and Weiss followed her inside.

“There are clothes in the closet.” The Faunus pointed towards the far wall, where a small handle much like the one she’d used to open the room could hardly be seen against the design painted across the wall- depicting a dense forest with birds flying overhead and mountains in the background. “They may not fit well but it’s just until we can have the Imperial seamstress come take your measurements. Would you like to take dinner with the others or have it brought to you?”

An odd question but one with an obvious answer: much hard to poison or drug them unless they did so to the entire room. Or so she hoped.

“We’ll sup with the others.”

“I’ll let the staff know.” She bowed, stepping back out into the hall. “The meal will begin in about an hour. Please, take the time to rest until then.”

They waited until the door closed and the footsteps faded before turning towards each other, and Winter could see plainly the worry in her sister’s eyes.

“What are we going to do?” Her shoulders fell. “Where are we going to go- we can’t  _stay_  here.”

“I know.” Despite the awkwardness of the circumstances, she stepped forward and drew her sister into a hug, cursing their father for the umpteenth time. “We’ll escape at the first opportunity. Run, and never look back. We must remain strong until then.”

“What about Father? Whitley?” Weiss shook her head, clinging to her sister even as she tried to force back tears. “I don’t- I don’t know how to feel, but I can’t get the sight out of my head-”

“Hush, Weiss.” She reached up, releasing the younger sibling’s hair from her bun; four years separated them, and half a hundred little preferences, the chief of which being that Weiss rarely liked having her hair bound like that. Their father insisted it be up to show off their slender necks and shoulders, because they were goods meant to be consumed, but now that had changed.

No. No, it hadn’t. She couldn’t allow herself to buy into the fantasy; they were prisoners still. Perhaps not slaves, but not free. 

She couldn’t lose sight of that.

“Hush, little Songbird,” she said, marshaling her strength and offering a smile. “It will take time, but the memory will fade, and we can sort out how we feel about it later.”

“I don’t think I miss him.” A frown tugged at her lips, eyes downcast. “I know that sounds heartless- he was our father- but I… I don’t think I do.”

“I don’t blame you for that,” she said. “And I won’t blame you if you cry.” Her gaze fell on the cloaks they still wore, fur and silk at odds. “Let’s find something decent to wear, first. Then we can talk about it- or not talk.” Winter bit her lip briefly. “No matter what, we’re all each other has left now. And we’ll overcome this.”

“Right,” Weiss replied, at first sounding only half convinced herself before nodding. “Right. Focus on small steps- we can deal with the rest later.” A sigh left her lips. “We have plenty of time.”

Well… they had five months.

Hopefully.


	2. The Empress

The heavy tread of her boots stomping down the hallway echoed, warning any and all to stay well away as she marched towards her own private training grounds. With every step, the fire of the torches lining the walls flared brighter, if only for a moment, fluctuating like the pounding of her heart in her chest. Lips curled into a snarl, fists clenched, eyes blazing even brighter than the fires- she dearly hoped none would be so foolish as to try interrupting her. 

They would not be met kindly.

Empress Yang Xiao Long had lived for twenty-five years and never known a fury that ran as rampant as the one possessing her just then, the tightness in her chest making each breath ragged. The closer she drew to her destination, the angrier she became, until she finally crossed the threshold, the cool, early evening breeze doing nothing to soothe her as she tilted her head back and let loose a guttural roar that rang out across the Palace and the city beyond clearer than any bell, a wordless cry of pure rage.

The moment it ended, she turned, grabbing the first thing she could get her hands on- weights cast in iron even heavier than her- and tossed them to the other side of the grounds, some hundred feet away. If it made any noise as it crashed to the ground, she didn’t hear it over the blood rushing through her ears, moving onto the next weight, and the next, and the next, until she came to a weapons rack. 

She threw that, too. 

By the time she’d burned through enough energy and anger to come to her senses, she’d smashed her fists into a training dummy enough time to completely destroy it and beat a hole into the ground beneath. Her throat ached, dry and raw from both yelling and breathing heavily, and she knelt there over the shattered remains just trying to catch her breath and gather enough moisture in her throat to swallow without choking.

“Are you done or should I come back?”

Yang sighed, pushing herself to her feet and turning to see her sister standing there, tea tray in hand. “S-sorry, Ruby-”

She winced at both the cracking of her voice and the twinge of pain the vocalization caused.

“You don’t have to apologize to me; anything you broke or bent, I can make new.” A frown tugged at her lips. “You may want to apologize to Sun and Neptune, though, and whoever else helps you clean up this mess.”

Lilac eyes cast around as her expression soured. Aside from destroying half the equipment in the training area, her path of fury ranged all over, the cast aside remains breaking whatever they crashed against; she’d seen battlefields in better shape during her time bearing the crown settled around her temples. “Yeah… good point.”

Entering the hazardous area with careful steps around the wreckage, Ruby carried the tea tray high until she could set it down on the busted remnants of a bench, adjusting the broken boards to sit more or less even. Then, she poured some of the piping hot liquid into the two cups and let them steep, beckoning her sister closer. Reluctantly, Yang shuffled over, kneeling down on the other side with a heaviness across her shoulders. 

When her little sister offered her a cup, she accepted, wincing at the bitter lemon, but the smooth slide of honey down her throat that followed soothed her aching throat.

“So…” Silver eyes rested on her for a moment as she blew on her own tea to cool it. “You wanna talk about it?”

The sag to her shoulders became worse. “… what did you hear?”

“Not much.” She shrugged. “Just that no one’s seen you  _this_  angry before.” A knowing little grin curled her lips. “But they didn’t grow up with you, so that’s not much to go on.”

“Well… the royal family of Atlas decided to pay us a visit,” Yang said before a snarl curled her lips, anger rising again as she spat out the words. “No, I shouldn’t say that. Obviously, only the  _King_  made any decisions and everyone else just- the  _nerve_  of that bastard-”

“Whoa, slow down.” Her sister reached over, putting a hand on her shoulder, nodding down to the ceramic cup in her hand. Instantly, she tried to relax her grip for fear of breaking the poor thing. “We knew Atlas royalty would come looking for an alliance of some sort.”

“And I was fine with that!” Her eyes flashed red. “But he marches his own daughters into  _my_ home and offers them up as slaves, gives them to me collared and chained like animals, and then he has the  _gall_  to tear their clothes off!” With every word, her voice rose, until she was shouting in rage again, nevermind the pain in her throat. “That man put his own children on display for all the world to see! They had to stand there, naked but for their bonds, while their own father offered them up as sex slaves!”

Despite Ruby’s calming touch, the cup shattered as her hands curled into fists, the shards cutting into her palm and the scalding liquid beneath her notice. Nothing burned as hot as her fury anyway and it shielded her, protected her from the pain, if only for the moment.

“What did you do?” Unfazed by the heat of her anger- literally and figuratively- her sister merely regarded her with an even stare. “Knowing you, he’s not alive, is he?”

“I tore his throat out with my bare hands,” she replied, voice hard as steel. “He took their voices away; I returned the favor.  _That_  is justice.” Here, she faltered, looking away from silver eyes. As much as she still felt justified- righteous, even, for dealing with such filth so swiftly- regret and shame nipped at her heart and began cooling her rage. Her mistakes haunted her, putting a damper on her fury. “I… had his body removed from the throne room but-”

“But, you’re unsure about a proper burial.” Ruby’s gaze then felt too heavy, wordlessly reminding her of yet another mistake. She then tilted her head. “Did you ask his daughters?”

“N-no. I… I can’t.” Her expression twisted as pain and disgust warred within her, remembering vividly the looks on the Atlesians’ faces. “You didn’t see the way they looked at me. I should’ve had someone lead them away first.”

“First? You mean…” At the way she cringed, the question answered itself. “Oh… that’s… not good.”

“That’s not good?  _That’s not good?”_ Yang’s gaze snapped back to the younger woman, voice beginning to rise again. “That’s all you have to say? Ruby, you didn’t- they’re terrified and they hate me, and I…” With a sigh, she trailed off, anger slipping away so another, equally strong emotion could take hold. “Honestly, I hate me, too.”

“Sis, don’t-”

“No.” She shook her head and got to her feet, pacing to release her restless energy. “I never wanted all this, Rubes. I  _never_  meant for this to happen and I can’t- I don’t know what to do anymore. I never did!” She ran a hand through her hair, only then registering the drying blood making her fingers sticky, and her hair, too, now. Some of it, hers, and the rest belonging to the catalyst of all this. “At this rate, I’ll have to conquer all of Remnant to make it stop, and what then? Five, ten more years of war to unite every kingdom under my banner, and then some fleet will cross the Endless Ocean and it will start all over again.” Her arms raised before she threw them down, still needing to burn energy, to move, to- to do  _something_. “It never should have gotten to this point and I- I can’t just  _step down_  because what if the next moron just takes us right back, lives up to every awful expectation? So here I am, this- this brutal, bloodthirsty warlord who tears people’s throats out and has a harem of sex slaves, because even if only  _half_  that is true, it doesn’t matter.” She waved an arm towards the walls of the Palace, indicating both it and the city beyond. “As far as the world’s concerned, that’s all I am. A monster with a crown.”

“Yang, you  _know_  that’s not true.” Ruby remained seated throughout the tirade, following her motions with her eyes and sipping her tea. “That’s  _not_  who you are.”

“Isn’t it?” Her shoulders fell. “They ran and jumped off the balcony-”

“So did Blake-”

“ _Blake_  didn’t watch me tear her father’s throat out first.”

“I’m not saying what you did was right.” She paused. “Well, it wasn’t right for them to be there, or for them to have no say in his punishment. And it wasn’t smart overall.” Her sister shrugged. “But what I  _am_  saying is that you can’t just turn your back on this and get lost in your own misery and anger. Being mad at yourself doesn’t solve anything. They deserve an apology.”

“I know but… how am I going to apologize for this?” She spread her hands, helpless. “It’s not like I didn’t… try.” Her gaze darted away as she reached up, scratching at the back of her neck. “I mean… it wasn’t a  _good_  effort by any stretch of the imagination because I… just… completely forgot how to speak Atlesian.”

Her sister’s shoulders fell. “Yang.”

“I- I tried!” She ran her hands through her hair again. “But in the heat of the moment, I forgot  _everything_  I learned. I just- I could remember words and phrases, but I just-”

“You were even  _less_  articulate than you usually are when you’re angry.” Ruby sighed. “So, not a very good first impression, on top of everything else.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Finally, it seemed like all her energy was bleeding out, rage turning to regret. “To them… I look  _exactly_  like how the rumors describe me… a mindless war machine that takes and takes and takes…”

“It’s not too late to change that,” her sister said, offering a small smile. “I mean, Blake thought you were like that once. Sun and Neptune, too. Even Pyrrha- they eventually saw the  _real_ you.”

“I don’t think this is the same, Rubes.” Her brow furrowed. “What am I supposed to say? Sorry I killed your dad in front of you, but he was being a jerk?”

“It’s a start.” Finishing her tea, Ruby poured another cup and left it, getting to her feet. “More importantly, you’re asking the right questions now and you have a clearer head. You created the problem; now it’s time to solve it.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Dragging her feet, she went back to the bench and dropped to her knees, contemplating the cup for a moment. Her throat still hurt but she didn’t reach out and start steeping the tea, instead burying her face in her hands. “But I  _am_  a monster, Ruby. No matter what I do… that’s all I’ll ever be.”

She heard her sister’s footsteps as she moved around the bench, bending down to wrap her arms around Yang. She hadn’t grown the way the blonde had, hadn’t gained the height or the mass, her arms all thin, wiry muscle, almost too small in comparison, but it still eased her.

“Do you remember what you said when they came for me?”

Slowly, she pulled her hands away and wrapped her arms around Ruby, returning the embrace. “I’ll be the scariest, most terrible monster in all of Remnant, if it means keeping you safe.”

“Yeah. And you’ve done that- and not just for me. So, you’re a monster. Not all monsters are bad.” When they pulled apart, silver eyes flashed with that unshakable faith and determination that seemed to be woven into her very being. “Did you offer them the same deal as the others?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. I’ll start scheduling their lessons.” Ruby smiled. “And, in the meantime, you can figure out what you’re going to say.”

Yang frowned, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all you can do. You’ll figure it out.” She turned, heading back out of the training area. “And make sure to apologize to Ren when you take the tea set back!”

Yang felt her lips tug slightly into a small smile, even knowing that she’d receive a chiding look upon returning the set.

But then her expression dimmed, shoulders dropping once more as she looked around at the destruction she’d wrought. All the energy wasted on destroying instead of channeled into something productive- it’d been one of her greatest flaws since she was young. A kid who grew up far too fast- some days, she felt like nothing had changed with the passing years. Like she might as well be the same little girl standing in the doorway, watching as her worst fears came true before her very eyes-

“Wow.” A low whistle drew her attention away from her musings to the two now standing in the doorway. “Really did a number in here, didn’t ya?”

“Is it safe?” Neptune lightly joked, arms crossed over his chest in faux ease while his halberd rested against his shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to infringe on your… self reflection.”

Sun had brought his staff, too, lazily throwing his arms over it while it rested across his shoulders. “He’s still scared of that one time you threw the clay pot-”

“I’m not  _scared_. Just… healthily aware of your boundaries.”

“You know I didn’t  _mean_  to throw that at you, right?” Her shoulders sagged further as her gaze fell to the cup in her hands. “I didn’t know you were in the room.”

“Yeah, well, it’s in the past anyway!” The monkey Faunus laughed, allowing his staff to drop down and be caught by his tail. “You wanna spar for a bit? Burn off any excess energy?”

“Nah.” A little bit of her anger flickered, flashing through her body like lightning, and she tried to push it away so it wouldn't start burning her up again. “You two know I don’t like sparring when I’m mad. I… I don’t want to hurt anyone.” She looked up, offering a crooked, insincere grin. “Even if that’s the only thing I seem to be good at doing.”

“Okay, I have to disagree with you there.”

“Yeah, I’m with Sunny on this one.” Neptune strode forward, using the butt of his halberd to push aside some debris, clearing a path to her. “I’ve known you for, what, four years now? I’ve never seen you hurt  _one_  person.”

Her lips curled into a sour frown. “You two went with me to meet the Mistrali delegates last year.”

“Right, the ones who tried to  _assassinate you_ , I remember them.” He nodded, raising a hand to fiddle with the blue locks that had fallen into his eyes. “And I seem to remember a very distinct quote from someone I highly admire. ‘When leaders choose their whims over the safety of their people, they lose the right to govern.’ Does that sound familiar?”

“Yeah because  _I’m_  the one who said it.”

“Good, because I think it works pretty well as a broad statement, too.” The man sat down with her, setting his weapon across his lap. “When people prioritize their whims over the safety of others, they lose the right to call themselves a person. In my culture, such selfishness is seen as abhorrent and sinful; it’s only right to destroy it where it’s encountered- be that within oneself or in others.”

“People protect other people from threats,” Sun said, sitting opposite her and smiling wide. “Well, good people do, anyway. Some people can’t protect others, and that’s okay- not everyone is a protector! But those who actively harm others, who seek to harm others, or just disregard the safety of others in pursuit of their own goals- they are not good and they are not people. They are threats, and they  _must_  be destroyed.”

“You two have been hanging around Pyrrha again, haven’t you?” Her lips curled into a reluctant smile. “She’s always been so black-and-white with her outlook. As if it’s all easy like that.”

“She was raised to be a warrior priestess from birth; what else do you expect?” Neptune smirked for a moment before his expression changed to one more serious, reaching into his robes. “But at any rate, this is another case where you’ve managed to stop your own assassination.”

With a furrowed brow, she accepted the rolled up parchment he produced, noting the Atlesian royal sigil imprinted in the broken wax. “You two snuck aboard their ship, didn’t you?”

“We were down by the docks when the ships started coming in.” Grey eyes darted away, a sour frown on his lips. “The moment we saw the chains… we thought we should look into it.”

For a moment- just a brief moment- she allowed a bit of levity to break through, smiling at them. “You realize if you two were caught, it could’ve started a war, right?”

And just as she expected, he shot her a look that spoke volumes of offense. “When have  _we_  ever come close to being caught?”

Unfortunately, his partner didn’t seem as inclined to assist in that defense. “You remember three years ago-”

“Nep, not that again!” Sun groaned. “It was  _one time_.”

“And I’m never letting you forget it.”

As they continued to reminisce on the one time they quite nearly sent the whole of Vytal spiraling back into war- a conflict they, ironically, ended up participating in regardless- Yang unfurled the parchment and began to read, squinting a bit in thought as she tried to make out the flowery handwriting. Obviously drafted by the former King’s own hand, the missive contained very precise instructions to be followed upon his son’s return. Addressed to a ‘Klein’ and riddled with the sort of short, clipped, and overall demeaning tone one would presumably use with a servant, and any little bit of regret she might’ve had- any thought that perhaps her actions had been rash and somewhere beneath the mustache and the wrinkles lay a human being worthy of mercy- were wiped away.

He didn’t just plan on killing her; he planned on taking her throne as his own before the whole thing was through and expanding the Empire even further. He wanted nothing short of absolute power and would sacrifice whoever he needed to in order to achieve it.

Anything not talking about paving the way for an invasion to occupy the Empire’s capitol city while the coup took place related to ensuring the newly minted King didn’t ruin anything in the man’s absence. 

Obviously, he didn’t think too highly of  _any_  of his children.

“This bastard had the nerve to sign ‘Your Future Emperor, His Imperial Excellency’ at the bottom.” She rolled the parchment up and quite nearly crumpled it in her fist. “If I didn’t hate his guts, I might actually be impressed. That’s the most arrogant thing I’ve seen.”

“Well, we know how well it worked out for him.” Neptune nodded towards the damning evidence. “What all did it say?”

Yang tilted her head, noting the sheepishness in his voice. “I’m pretty sure I asked you to learn Atlesian, just like everyone else in the palace.”

“You did, and I’m working on it.” He spread his hands while his friend remained silent for the moment, obviously not any better off on that front. “For now, I know the important words, like ‘kill’ for instance, and all its incarnations.”

A sigh slipped past her lips as she ran a hand over her face. “He wanted the Atlesian military to prepare for an invasion to support his coup after he killed me, which likely wouldn’t be for six months at least. He was going to stage attacks along Atlas’ border to justify invasions into the other kingdoms of Mantle; once the continent was under Atlas’ control, then the invasion would proceed, having used the border attacks as excuses to draw Imperial resources and bolster their military power.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “As much as I hate to say this, I need my Spymaster; if like father like son, it won’t be long until King Whitley gets it into his head to try this anyway.”

“We’ll pass the word. Any particular time and place?”

“Sun.” He raised a brow. “It’s  _Neo_  we’re talking about. She’ll pop out of the woodwork when she’s good and ready.”

“Yeah, and she’ll probably know before we even tell her.” A roll of his eyes. “She’s always listening.”

“Always listens, never talks- I’m not sure if that makes her a better Spymaster or if she just likes the air of mystery.” Another sigh. “And I suppose this means I’ll have to confront them sooner than I’d like.” At the questioning looks she received, she elaborated. “His daughters- Winter and Weiss. I don’t  _think_  they were in on his plan, but if they were, best to let them know there’s no use in subtlety.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“What I always do,” she replied, finishing her tea and getting to her feet. Casting her gaze around, she cringed for a moment before settling her gaze on the two, her voice taking on a stern edge. “I don’t want you two touching a thing while I’m gone. I’ll come back and clean this mess up.”

They exchanged a look before Sun sighed, his tail flicking in annoyance. “You don’t have to do everything yourself, you know. We can help out a little.”

“He’s right. It’s not much, but cleaning this up is something. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“I’m not a child who throws tantrums and then leaves it to others to fix it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared them both down. “I mean it. I…” her gaze deviated briefly “… I’m a lot of things. But I’m not that.”

“Can we at least separate out what’s salvageable?” Neptune waved a hand around at the destruction. “I mean, not everything is broken beyond repair. It could make things easier on Her Imperial Highness if we figured out what she doesn’t have to worry about.”

Unfortunately, that managed to break her seriousness just enough for a surprised chuckle to burst from her lips. “If Rubes hears you call her that-”

“Then she’ll take it up with me!” Sun smiled wide. “She’s the Crown Princess, after all. We gotta call her that if she’s gonna start acting like it!”

And just like that, the little bit of levity left her, forcing her to turn her back to them to hide the sourness that returned to her expression. “Fine. Just… leave the clean up to me.”

On top of everything else, she didn’t need to be thinking about the line of succession, especially not with a new threat aimed directly at her looming in the distance. She’d only ever set out to unify the lands to protect people, and she’d managed that part just fine, but it made her worry for the future. If, by some miracle, one of those assassins actually succeeded, it would put Ruby at risk. On the list of things she wouldn’t want for her little sister, this ongoing nightmare happened to rank pretty high on the list.

Without conscious thought, her feet carried her to the opposite side of the Palace, where Blake had taken Winter and her sister…

… damnit, she hadn’t even gotten the smaller one’s name. It might be ‘Weiss’ but, considering how poorly she’d been thinking throughout the ordeal, Yang couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t some Atlesian word that meant ‘sister’ or something.

Could it get  _any_  worse?

_Tink. Tink. Tink._

“The Gods are mocking me.” She muttered under her breath, turning her head to look down a corridor and finding none other than her Spymaster waiting, a mischievous glint to her eyes and a half formed smirk on her lips. “Neo. I take it you heard I wanted to talk with you.”

A single brow arched as her smirk grew wider.

“It’s still ‘talk with you’; it’s a conversation,” she replied at the unspoken jibe, reaching up to adjust her crown. She hated the blasted thing but she definitely didn’t want anyone watching to be confused as to who was in charge; the last thing she’d want would be someone else taking an assassin’s knife on her behalf. “I assume you’re aware of everything else as well.”

Pushing off from the wall she leaned again, Neo walked a bit further down the hall, the copper tip of the cane in her hand  _tink tink tink_ ing with every step. The shorter woman didn’t use the blasted thing for mobility but it seemed like she held onto it for sentimental reasons, just like she strictly adhered to her favored color scheme, mixing pink, white, and brown together in her coat and jacket- clothing that, now that Yang thought about it, strongly resembled the manner of dress exhibited by the Atlesians.

Once at the end of the hallway and just a few feet from the Empress, Neo tucked the cane beneath one arm, moving her hands to speak.  _“Even if I did, I want to hear your version.”_

She frowned. “You enjoy torturing me, don’t you?”

_“Of course.”_

Another sigh slipped past her lips. “The Atlesian royal family arrived with both an offer to ally with the Empire and plans to assassinate me and take my throne. Do me a favor and send some of your little birdies into Atlas. If the new King opts to follow the plans of the old one, I’ll need to stop them before they do something excessively foolish.” She scratched at her jaw. “Part of their plan involved staging skirmishes at their borders; start with that. Anything suspicious, I want to know. There’s been enough bloodshed.”

Neo shook her head, favoring the Empress with a tight smile.  _“You left out the fun parts.”_  At Yang’s scowl, she shrugged.  _“It’s not the first time someone’s hated your guts after meeting you. You’re bad at first impressions.”_

“Look, I don’t need another lecture, especially not from you.” Her eyes flicked to the cane. “You aren’t so great at it yourself.”

Even though no sound accompanied it, she could tell by the glint in those dual colored eyes that Neo was laughing at her, highly amused as ever by their first meeting. At least one of them found it as such; Yang, on the other hand, remembered it as exhausting.

 _“No lecture here. Instead, advice.”_  For a rare moment, the silent woman’s expression turned serious.  _“They have no reason to trust you. Give them a reason. And don’t be surprised when they refuse at first.”_

“I’ve figured that much out.” A sigh slipped past her lips. “I’m not handling this any differently than usual-”

 _“That may be a mistake.”_  Neo frowned at her, hands pausing for a moment before she continued.  _“You don’t know their motives.”_

“No, but I can show them mine.” Yang nodded, resolute in her decision. “It won’t happen overnight. It’ll take time for them to see me differently.”

_“You never choose the easy path.”_

“Nope.” She turned, heading down the corridor. “That’s how I know I always choose the  _right_  path. I’ve never found the easy thing and the right thing to be the same.”

For a moment, she thought that was the end of it, but then she heard the rhythmic tapping of the cane and turned around, catching sight of Neo’s little smirk and her hand held up in a particular gesture.

She’d forgotten the tea set.

“You don’t have to eavesdrop on  _every_  conversation, you know,” she said with a little scowl. “And before I forget, I absolutely  _forbid_  you from listening in on the Atlesians. Have I made myself clear? No digging through their things, no dropping in on them unannounced-  _no_ spy work around them at all.”

Thankfully, her Spymaster didn’t argue at all, merely nodding her assent to the order and slipping back into the shadows. Hopefully, the shorter woman’s team of informants would be under way to Atlas before sunset the following day; if she was lucky, the might even arrive shortly after the King himself, before he had a proper chance to start moving his pieces around the board.

Dragging a hand over her face, Yang took a moment to center herself before heading back to the training grounds.

She definitely needed to get that tea set back to Ren and apologize for breaking one of the cups before seeing to the Atlesians. Give herself and them a little bit of a break before confronting the sisters again.

Yang could only hope it would be that easy.


	3. The Former Princess

Weiss bit her lower lip, scanning the contents of the closet with trepidation. She could pick out some as recognizable fashions but most of the fabric seemed foreign and strange, patterns woven together in ways she’d never seen before. Some had fur lined collars and cuffs but not enough to keep warm- which, in Vale, probably wasn’t as big a consideration as Atlas, but it still seemed so… odd, to her. 

Winter wasted no time selecting trousers and a matching shirt, though both sat awkwardly on her lithe frame. It would probably be wise to do the same, in the event they both made a break for freedom some time tonight, and she reached for something closer to her size.

But a hand on her shoulder stopped her, her sister offering one of her rare, soft smiles. “You’ve never liked trousers.”

“Well, no… but it’s the practical choice right now.” She looked back at the cloth- for a moment, it was red, blood red, but then she blinked and it returned to a softer purple color. “If- if we run-”

“We won’t run tonight. They’ll be expecting that,” Winter said, shaking her head. “Tonight, we play nice, we follow their rules- so long as the Empress honors her word. We’ll escape when they drop their guard.” She reached into the closet and grabbed a long dress of pale blue silk. “I think this is more to your liking.”

She actually preferred her dresses a bit shorter but it would do for now. “Yes. Thank you, Winter.”

Her sister nodded and stepped away, looking for some tall boots while Weiss slipped into the dress. It didn’t feel nearly as… familiar as her usual attire but  _far_  better than the flimsy sheet she’d been given along with her chains. The hem swirled around her ankles, the sleeves going all the way to her palms, and while she didn’t quite fill it out the way one would were it tailored to her frame, she felt a sense of calm descend upon her- a fragile thing, really, but a little bit of normalcy amidst the chaos.

When she looked back towards her sister, though, a frown claimed her lips. Over her shoulders, she’d draped the fur the Empress had covered her with, affixing it in the same manner as it should be properly worn. Just as the rest of her ensemble, it sat awkwardly, designed for someone with more width and a shorter stature.

When Winter caught the expression on her face, she merely shrugged. “I need to know something. This seems the best method of finding it out.”

“What do you expect to happen?” Her gaze darted to the black cloak she’d worn upon entering the room, unsure whether or not she should mirror her sister’s actions or not.

“Think of F-” She stopped herself, coughing into her hand to try and cover the momentary slip. “Think of Whitley. Were he to hand something off to one he viewed as lesser, and that person didn’t immediately return it, what would be his response?”

“He’d throw a tantrum,” Weiss replied, wincing slightly as she turned back towards the closet and tried to pick out some shoes. She’d always fancied a bit of a heel, seeing as she’d never quite caught up to the rest of her family in the height department, but the styles available were… again, rather odd. “Probably suggest that person be sent to the gallows or the dungeons.”

“Exactly.” The creak of leather boots not weathered enough to be worn smooth indicated the woman was moving around the room, likely looking for gloves. Even in the stifling heat of this new land, Winter preferred her layers. “Everyone here will try to convince us the Empress is compassionate, that bending to her whims is not only for the best but hardly an imposition. When her fury reveals itself again, she will be weak.  _That_  is an opportunity I’ll exploit.”

“I thought you said we weren’t to escape tonight?”

“Come, Weiss, don’t be daft.” A morbid chuckle. “There’s no chance she’ll seek us out tonight. There’s a pace to these sorts of things.” The sounds of drawers opening as Winter began to rummage through the other furniture in the room. “She’s waiting for us to let down our guard just as much as we are waiting in turn. It’s just a matter of who will buckle first.”

Although she rarely voiced such things, the events since they’d been unceremoniously roused from their beds and informed of their stripped birthrights, status, and forced into chains made her less inclined to simply follow without questioning. “What if you’re wrong?”

“Wrong about what?” 

Weiss turned around, swallowing down the impulse to simply agree with her elder sister. “What if she  _does_  come tonight? This is her Palace; there must be spies in the walls, around every corner- it’ll be just as bad as home.”

For a moment, it looked as if Winter might snap at her, but she stopped herself just shy of speaking, clicking her mouth shut and reordering the words. “She’s managed to rule the Empire for ten years. Were it so easy to provoke her into charging blindly ahead, we wouldn’t be the first to take advantage of it, and she’d have fallen to one of those by now. There must be  _some_  manner of self restraint in her.” She made a motion to the walls. “So let her little birds hear and ferry back our intentions. We will adapt and overcome. Hyper vigilance is, in itself, a form of weakness for the clever opponent.”

They watched each other for a moment before Weiss turned back, selecting a set of heels only two inches high. Comfortable enough that she  _should_  be able to move quickly if needed, even if the straps were… strange to her. She supposed she should stop mentally acknowledging all the peculiar things around her or she might never stop, unable to catalog every nuanced difference to be found in this new land. Adapt and overcome- as good a motto as any, even if her fingers didn’t seem as deft as usual.

But she stopped when she felt Winter step up beside her, carefully pulling her into a hug.

“I know I failed you once before, Weiss.” Her eyes closed, a faint sting of phantom pain shooting through the left side of her face. Even after all these years, it hadn’t quite faded from her memory. “I’ll not make the same mistake again. I’ll protect you and we  _will_  escape this place.”

“Right,” she replied, sounding more sure on the second try. “Right. We will.”

Winter ran gloved fingers through her hair as a means of soothing away her worries but it just reminded her of the dampness, the jump from the balcony, how the whole series of events seemed never ending. “There’s a few brushes I’ve found.”

Good, a mechanical motion, something she could do without conscious thought, and how different could a  _brush_  be anyway? “Thank you.”

A final, reassuring pat to her shoulder before her sister turned to fetch one such brush and returned hardly a moment later, pressing it into her hand. White bone or ivory, sanded smooth and carved into the likeness of a sea foam rolling atop waves- a pretty thing that served its purpose with no thoughts to oddity. A blessed relief.

When she’d finished, she set the brush down on the bed… and slowly, carefully picked up the black cloak. If bringing ire upon them was part of the plan, she should do her part, and she affixed it about her shoulders, fingers lingering on the cool metal of the little flower pendant that acted as a clasp.

Weiss straightened her posture immediately when someone knocked on the door, breath catching in her throat in fear of who would be on the other side. 

Would it be the Empress? The Faunus adviser? Someone new?

All three options seemed daunting in their own way and her mind continued racing, unable to linger on any one thing for far too long. If she did that, then red would fill her vision again and she needed to remain strong.

Winter went over to the sliding door, fumbling for a moment before finding the appropriate seam and pulling it open to reveal a new face on the other side- a tall redhead with a glittering headdress and necklace, kind emerald eyes offset only by bronzed skin pulled tight over rippling muscle, a sword and shield peeking out above her broad shoulders.

“Hello there!” She spoke Atlesian, though her accent made the words sound far more crisp and enunciated than would be normal for a natural speaker. “I am Pyrrha. I came to see if you two needed help settling in before dinner.”

Schooling her expression into the same mask she’d summoned before, Weiss remained silent, leaving it to her sister to do the talking.

“We’re acclimating just fine.” Her voice held a cold edge, not quite threatening but aggressive all the same as she stood between Weiss and the newcomer. “You can report back to your master now.”

“Master?” Curiosity pinched her expression before she laughed, a gentle and joyous sound. “I serve no master. I only serve the Maidens and they don’t need my words to know all.” Her head tilted to the side. “But I think you meant Yang? The others have mentioned this confusion before. I’m still not sure I quite grasp the cause, though.”

“Were you not gifted to her as we were? Under the expectation of serving her will?” Derision littered Winter’s voice, obviously unwilling to believe this continued insistence that these others didn’t serve the Empress as her slaves.

Even Weiss had to admit that she’d never seen people so committed to upholding a falsehood before.

“No.” A frown claimed her lips then, shoulders falling slightly. “I apologize if my presence offends you. I will leave; I only meant to offer assistance-”

“So, where are our new arrivals?” Without nearly as much care as Pyrrha showed, another woman brushed into the room, devoid of any weaponry yet wearing what appeared to be light leather armor, various patterns worked into the tough material, though the full design couldn’t be seen due to belts and pouches around her waist. Chocolate eyes peered over the tops of rounded glasses, similarly colored bang peeking out from beneath a leather cap of some sort, pins and needles stuck through it at various angles. Unlike Pyrrha, her Atlesian came out in almost a drawl, slow and smooth. “Ah, these must be them. Northern Atlas, right? Cold country up there.” 

Her gaze seemed far more demanding, more scrutinizing than any other they’d come across in the Palace, and Weiss found herself flinching away as the woman stalked closer.

“Coco.” Pyrrha set a hand on the woman’s shoulder, bringing her to a halt. “I’m not sure if now is the best time.”

“Nonsense; a proper wardrobe is a key part of becoming acclimated to a new environment.” Ah, the seamstress Blake mentioned. That accounted for… well, at the very least, why the woman seemed so interested in looking over the Atlesian sisters. “And they’ll need it. They’ve nothing of their own to wear, you know.”

The warrior shifted, clearing her throat. “I’d hoped that was an exaggeration.” Then emerald eyes swept over Winter and Weiss. “The Maidens have sought to deliver you to us and I’m glad for it. None should be subject to such terrible circumstances, especially by one’s own blood.”

“We don’t need your pity.” Winter growled, hardening against any attempts made to set her at ease.

And it took Weiss a moment to remember why, because comfort seemed such a precious commodity, it felt almost wrong to reject it. Yet, in the back of her mind, she understood, her gaze drawn to the red of Pyrrha’s sash- blood red, bright as the spray that splattered on the stone of the throne room.

Coco barked out a laugh, pulling from one of her pouches a long tape with markings on it. “Pity is for the defenseless of the world.  _You,_ on the other hand, almost started a fist fight with Yang and jumped off a balcony.”

“That takes a warrior’s heart.” Pyrrha nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and smiling. “I believe you both will find a home here.”

“We  _had_  a home.” 

Weiss looked at her sister then, a question on her lips that she didn’t let fall. Because could anyone truly call the place that raised them a home?

“Is that so?” Coco hummed, walking around both of them. “Is it comfortable, wearing that fur? You look a bit warm.”

“I’ll acclimate eventually,” Winter replied, stalwartly refusing to budge while laying the seeds for their eventual escape. “I rather like it.”

Sometimes, she envied her sister’s calm and poise. Her own thoughts rebounded inside her skull, making it impossible to move, to speak, to even think. A sort of numbness had overcome her, dulling her senses, but Winter remained sharp as any blade.

But neither woman showed any concern about her comments, the seamstress merely nodding absently. “Blue or white?”

A frown claimed her lips as her brows furrowed, exchanging a glance with Weiss before responding. “Blue or white?”

“Which color do you prefer?” Coco clarified, not at all bothered by the skepticism being directed her way. “If I remember correctly, blue and white are the royal colors for Atlas, and both would look good with your complexions. But, as far as personal preference goes, blue or white?”

Somehow, she found her voice. “White.” She lacked the strength she had before, steeling her nerves when every set of the eyes in the room shifted to her, but Weiss managed to lift her chin proudly and put a bit more strength behind the words. “Like the mountains.”

“Very well. Blue for accents, then.” A thoughtful hum as she regarded Weiss. “Though… you  _do_  look good in black and gold.”

The ringing of a brass gong echoed down the hallway, catching Pyrrha’s attention. “Ah, dinner’s ready.” She offered them a warm smile. “If you’d like, we can accompany you to the dining hall, or you can find your way there in your own time. I can give you directions-”

“Weiss? Are you hungry?” She nodded, noting the tension in her sister’s shoulders as her attention shifted to Coco and Pyrrha. “Very well. Lead on.”

For all her talk about waiting for others to let down their guard, Weiss had a keen suspicious that the harder battle would be keeping  _theirs_  up. She couldn’t imagine the amount of fatigue it would inevitably cause to be so on edge for long periods of time. The paranoia they’d have to adopt just to ensure they survived the whole ordeal… it made breathing more difficult just thinking about it.

A hand touched her shoulder, causing her to jump and turn, backing away from Pyrrha, who’s expression melted into one of intense concern.

“If you’d rather, we can bring dinner here. We’ll even sup with you, if you’d rather not deal with everyone else.”

In her mind’s eye, she imagined an impossibly long table with hundreds of faceless people sitting, all waiting silently, watching her-

“Nonsense,” Winter said, stepping up beside her to provide a bit of comfort, something to cling to as she fought to keep herself under control. “We wouldn’t want to be rude.”

Reaching deep within herself, she called upon the poise that had been drilled into her throughout her youth, shoving down the fear as best she could and slipping on a pleasant mask. “Of course not. Please. Lead the way.”

Pyrrha and Coco exchanged a glance, the redhead muttering something in a language- Mistrali, she thought, though she couldn’t place the dialect- that her companion understood, offering a small nod in response before they both swept out of the room, waiting for the sisters to follow just outside.

“Weiss.” She looked at her sister, noting how her expression shifted to show a bit of a soft smile. “We  _are_  mountains.”

An ancient saying inscribed beneath their royal crest, referring to the mountain range in the north of Atlas where their ancestors ruled for generations before Atlas properly formed. Strong, steady, rising above all others and impervious to winter’s cold or the wind’s fury, bearing snow storms and freezing rain with the same indifference.

“We are mountains.” She nodded, feeling the rolling emotions still crashing through her calm ever so slightly. She’d survived twenty five years in her father’s court, constantly being put under increasing pressure, rarely able to fully relax, forced to meet exacting expectations that moved even further from her reach with every step forward. She was Weiss Schnee, former princess of Atlas, and she would not be imprisoned by her own fear. “We are mountains.”

Winter’s lips flickered into a slightly bigger smile before slipping back into her previously impassive mask, leading the way to follow their guides. Weiss used her position at the back of the group to look around, taking note of details she’d missed when they were lead through the halls earlier. Artwork hung on the walls while marble statues stood by the doorways, some presumably the work of professional hands while others looked… far less skilled, in comparison. They appeared to originate from all over the Empire- the coast of Mistral, the desserts of Vacuo, a Faunus warrior in traditional armor, a Valen warhorse, a cabin in the woods that could’ve been set in any forest in Remnant- and curiously none of them referenced or depicted the Empress at all.

Weiss couldn’t be sure if an apparent lack of vanity really meant much, all things considered, but she did find it curious.

Eventually, they entered a grand hall, with one long table and several smaller ones set off to the side, easily fifty people sitting and chatting and laughing, relaxed and clearly enjoying themselves. It brought a furrow to her brow, seeing as most wore some manner of charm or jewelry incorporating the Empress’ emblem. How could they seem so at ease with their imprisonment, wearing a brand so proudly?

“Alright, you lot.” Coco called out, effectively commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “We have some new additions from Atlas. Mind your manners and check to see if you’ve got any classes to teach tomorrow.”

“Classes?” She couldn’t help the question, a combination of curiosity and the dire need to know and understand all she could about her new environment, lest she be caught unawares.

But it didn’t seem like her curiosity was thought out of turn, the woman’s eyebrows raising in surprise. “Oh, right, I’m sure Blake and Yang didn’t have time to explain.” Her expression smoothed out into a smile. “You were offered five months to stay here and learn the ways of the Empire, right? The people you see here will be your teachers, for the most part. The knowledge and experiences of our homelands are at your disposal.”

“How… generous of you to donate your time,” Winter said, displeasure on the edge of her tone.

“Well, it started out as a sort of cultural exchange between us. Just a way to talk about our homelands, sharing stories with each other.” Coco’s head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing as she pressed her lips into a thin line. “I want to say Neptune was the one who suggested turning it into an introduction to the Empire… was it Neptune?”

“Perhaps?” Pyrrha shrugged. “By the time I arrived, it was already in place.”

“And how long  _have_  you been here?” Her sister prodded, looking for perhaps some manner of weakness, or to gauge what sort of techniques might be used to persuade them into staying.

“Coming up on two years, thereabouts,” the woman replied with a smile, fondly reminiscing. “Before being brought into the Empire, Mistral was governed by city-states, which used a council of representatives to speak for Mistral as a whole. I hail from Rhemyscira, a small island off the coast that’s long prided ourselves on our warrior ways, and my squad was sent as envoys to meet with Yang before the Empire invaded Mistral.” Then a dark shadow came over her face, barely restrained rage showing plain in flashing emerald eyes. “We didn’t know the other representatives planned on using us for cover while they sent assassins in our midst. I challenged Yang to single combat, as is our custom, and upon the conclusion of the fight, we agreed to be allies.  _That_  is when my cowardly countrymen sought to stab Yang in the back.” She sighed, looking away for a moment to regain her composure before continuing. “It is one of the highest insults among my people, to act in such a fashion. Rhemyscira sided with the Empire and aided in the invasion of Mistral, and I have remained in Yang’s ranks ever since.”

“You turned your back on your own kingdom?” Weiss couldn’t imagine it. For all the trials and tribulations she’d endured in the name of Atlas’ well being- for all those her sister suffered as well- the idea to simply betray their people… it was unthinkable.

“A kingdom without honor is not one I’ll ever claim,” Pyrrha replied, absolute resolution in her voice, though her expression softened by degrees. “Had those assassins held their blades, Mistral would’ve enjoyed a peaceful alliance with the Empire but no one can abide a life living in fear, least of all Yang, and she extends that to her subjects. Mistral thrives today because she removed those who used fear to rule, and the people are happy for it.”

“You’ll come to find Pyrrha’s experiences are the exception, not the rule- at least in regards to how she came to be here. The results are almost universal.” Coco explained, waving them closer to the long table, where enough space remained for the four of them to sit comfortably. Well, as comfortable as one could be without chairs. “For instance, I lived on the border of Vale and Vacuo, near the coast. When Yang united Vale, the local merchant guild snatched me and a few other people, then sent us to Yang’s court as tribute, hoping to buy themselves into her good graces.” She chuckled, looking around the table at all the smiles and poorly hid amusement directed their way. “As we well know, that  _didn’t_  work.”

Weiss snuck a glance towards her sister, still tense as her gaze scanned the area. Although it probably wouldn’t help, a question lingered on her tongue and she couldn’t help but voice it. “Does she kill everyone who tries to appease her?”

“Yang just detests slavery. That’s all.” 

A new voice cut in and her shoulders jumped while Winter snapped her gaze towards the newcomer, the peculiar accent on the words denoting a native Valen. Dread began setting in as she recognize the figure now striding towards the table, red cloak billowing around her- the figure constantly depicted at the Empress’ side during her conquests, awash in blood.

Why was there so much red here?

“Ruby!” Pyrrha bowed at the waist, quickly, as if the action was performed by rote familiarity. “Come to join us for dinner?”

“If that’s alright.” In the flesh, the young woman seemed… frankly, not as terrifying as the depictions of her. Rounded cheeks, a lithe frame, a modest skirt and high boots- nothing like the Empress’ towering stature, either, coming just an inch shorter than Weiss herself. Silver eyes caught the light almost as much as her wide smile and she knelt down on the other side of the table from where the sisters stood. “I hope I’m not intruding. I know it’s been a very trying day for you two.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Coco laughed, kneeling down like many others- apparently the norm for Valen meals, if she recalled correctly. “I’m guessing you already talked to her.”

“Yeah. She was in the training yard.” Ruby sighed and shook her head. “Sometimes, I worry about her, ya know?”

“We all do,” Pyrrha said, motioning for Winter and Weiss to sit beside her, putting them between their two guides for the moment. “Although, maybe you remember- who’s idea was it to develop the classes for newcomers?”

“Technically, it was Sun’s, but he just made a joke that we  _should_  do it, and Neptune did the work to make it happen.” A slew of new faces appeared as people began bringing out plates and bowls filled with food to the tables, stopping to chat on occasion with those they served before, inevitably, sitting down themselves. “As usual with those two, what one started, the other finished.”

“Ah, right, now I remember.” Coco nodded, accepting empty bowls from someone and passing them around. “Oh, and we’ll need some utensils; I doubt our guests are acclimated to using…” She paused, her expression falling. “Crap.”

“Chopsticks.” Pyrrha supplied with a soft smile before turning her attention to Winter and Weiss. “Our apologies; we’d like to think ourselves masters at conversational Atlesian, but it’s our fourth language each. Forgive us if we stumble.”

“You both speak it well.” Her sister conceded, though suspicion laced her tone. “How long have you known we’d be coming, to master it in such a short span of time?”

“I’m sure you have a very clear idea of who Yang is- that she’s violent and inarticulate, maybe even blood thirsty and stupid,” Ruby said, offering a helpless shrug. “But, that’s not who she is, not really. With Mantle being the only continent the Empire hasn’t touched, she thought it would only be a matter of time until someone came to negotiate terms, so she had us all start learning the main dialects to prepare. When she received word that Atlas would be sending a delegation, we focused on Atlesian.”

The sisters exchanged a glance.

“I suppose that  _is_  rather clever, having multiple interpreters.” Her sister frowned slightly, and she could guess where her train of thought went: they would have no privacy but it would be all around them. They didn’t know any of the other tongues of Remnant aside from high Mantleian, a root dialect from which even Atlesian was derived.

“Oh, no, she doesn’t use interpreters; Yang can speak our languages fluently.” Pyrrha corrected, tilting her head slightly. “It surprised me, too, when I met her for the first time. She even gave the standard Rhemysciran greeting.”

“ _However_ , she’s also famously inarticulate when furious.” Ruby quickly added, offering a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sure the next time you meet her, she’ll be a bit more… composed.”

Weiss swallowed thickly. The idea of confronting the Empress again… 

“I’m sure.” Winter regarded the food spread before them, every dish seeming… somewhat familiar. The scent of spiced pork hung heavy in the air but a few seemed to be food from other cultures and even the ones they recognized didn’t… quite look right, as if someone only used a vague description or recipe and had never actually seen it themselves.

Something must’ve shown in their faces- hers, probably, seeing as her sister had far more experience and discipline in that arena- as a man stepped forward, a hand over his heart as he bowed. “I apologize if it’s not to your liking; I’m afraid the recipes I used were incomplete. I’ll let Yang know that we need a proper Atlesian cookbook.”

“You should really try it anyway though!” A woman bounded up beside him, carrying a large bowl overflowing with salad. “Ren’s an  _amazing_  cook!”

“Nora-”

“She’s not wrong.” Coco pointed out, already filling up her bowl. “Please, try them; you must be hungry.”

Weiss did her best to ignore the way her stomach clenched, as if agreeing with that sentiment, and kept her gaze fixated on the dishes set directly in front of her. She could feel the gazes directed her way- quick, hardly there things, but likely accompanied by murmurs. The whole Palace had to know the story by now. Called newcomers and guests but really just gifts, the same as some, if not all of them- how could they be so comfortable with this?

For a moment, her gaze flicked to Ruby- the vision of death among them, often depicted with a giant scythe that dwarfed her form. In Atlas, as sure a death omen as any and a figure to be feared. Was it all talk? Or did the woman across from her have just as much blood on her hands as stained the Empress’?

After loading up her bowl with what she  _could_  recognize and accepting a knife and fork from Ren, who favored her with a small smile before claiming a seat further down the table, Weiss glanced around, noticing no one had started to eat yet, as if waiting for some signal.

“I think everyone’s gotten their food, Priestess.” Coco murmured, earning a nod from Pyrrha.

“I believe you’re right.” Clearing her throat, the woman straightened up and inclined her head, folding her hands in her lap. “Maidens, thank you for this bounty. May it fuel us in our fight and steady our blades. May your will be served. We live as testament to our faith. We thrive as exultation to you. Maidens, bless.”

From further down the table, a few voices rose in some manner of cry, a short and emphatic shout that seemed to answer Pyrrha’s prayer, and a glance confirmed those who did so wore armor similar to hers. Perhaps the other members of the original group that came with Pyrrha also remained with the Empress.

“Would you like to say something?” Ruby tilted her head to indicate the redhead. “In Rhemyscira, it’s customary to thank the Maidens- their deities- before most undertakings. I… think I read about something like that in Atlas?”

Weiss almost responded herself but Winter beat her to it.

“God abandoned us long ago; we have no thanks to give.”

The words were sharp and crisp, punctuated by her sister immediately beginning to eat and ignoring the worried looks traded around the table- perhaps the whole room. Heat crawled up her neck but she resolutely ignored it in favor of starting on her own meal. Better to ignore it for now, to harden herself against it- these people were loyal servants of the Empress and would do everything in their power to try and turn them into the same. She had to remember that, remain on guard, remain skeptical. There could be no slipping into comfort, not until they were free.

… and, maybe, not even then.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ruby said, her voice gentle, and it earned a scoff from Winter.

“He deserved his fate.”

“Perhaps, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” That caused both sisters to look up, meeting those silver eyes and finding no deception in them. Only a sincere, genuine sort of empathy. “You’ve lost your home, your freedom, your sense of security- more things than I can articulate. You lost your place. Condolences aren’t much but they’re all I have to offer at present.” Then, she smiled. “And hope- that you’ll find a  _new_  place in the world. One that  _you_  choose.”

“Duly noted.” Immediately, she returned to her food, and more worried glances were exchanged between Coco and Pyrrha, a silent conversation that seemed to end on an uncertain note.

Weiss tried to preoccupy herself with the food but found the spices used to be almost overpowering, a new flush coming to her skin as she tried not to cry from the heat on her tongue. Someone had brought out water, a few other types of drinks- one smelled undoubtedly of alcohol while another had a sweeter aroma-, and, blessedly, some milk, which she hastily poured into a goblet of some sort and greedily drank to soothe the burning in her throat. Her sister refused to show such weakness, though tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she tried to hide the way her sinuses cleared.

“Oh, we probably should’ve warned you; Valen cuisine tends towards spicy, especially Yang’s tastes.” Ruby shrank a little bit, offering a weak smile. “Uh, are you two going to be okay?”

“We’re perfectly fine.” Winter managed through gritted teeth, though her voice warbled ever so slightly.

“Ren?” Pyrrha called out with a soft smile. “Perhaps not so spicy next time?”

“Ah, my apologies.” He nodded, raising his own drink. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Coco offered, indicating one of the soups. “Try that; it’s mild and usually filling.”

“I think I ate that for a week when I came here.” Someone further down the table spoke, and others laughed and either agreed or spoke in their native language, words that had a teasing lilt to match their smiles.

“Soak the meat in it.” Ren suggested, indicating his own bowl. “It helps diffuse the spice some.”

Some more tips were offered from other spots around the room and, finally, Weiss needed to deflect, change the subject, because every word seemed so innocently helpful and she  _wanted_  to believe in it, if for no better reason than the alternative seemed daunting, but she couldn’t buckle, not when Winter expected her to remain strong.

“Who was the first?” All too quickly, silence descended on the room, and she realized, perhaps, that  _wasn’t_  the question to ask.

“What do you mean?” Pyrrha tilted her head slightly. “The first?”

“I believe she means, who was the first person gifted to the Empress.” Winter clarified, a darkness to her tone that was either born of frustration with the question or the food, and she didn’t want to glance over to find out.

“Well… that’s a bit complicated.” Ruby chuckled slightly, ignoring her own meal for the moment to sigh. “The first people sent to Yang with the express purpose of buying her favor would be Ren and Nora… but if you’re asking why they were sent to her in the first place, that would be my fault, in a sense. I somehow started this odd little tradition.”

Winter’s eyes narrowed. “And who  _are_  you?”

“My name’s Ruby Rose. I’m Yang’s sister, and her heir, so that technically makes me the Princess I guess.” She shrugged, using a pair of this, round sticks to pick a few slices of pork from one plate and put it into her bowl. “And I’m sure  _that_  just confused you even more, right?”

Frankly, that was putting it  _lightly_ , as both sisters couldn’t help but exchange a look of pure confusion at the revelation. Every other person in the room, however, seemed to be highly uncomfortable, looking away or entirely concerning themselves with their meals.

“Ruby-” Pyrrha started, making as if to reach across the table and offer comfort but stopping when the woman held up a hand.

“It’s fine. I’ve been practicing.” She offered a sad little smile. “Yang expected Atlas to come;  _I_  expected them to make the same mistake as everyone else.”

Weiss swallowed thickly, fear taking root in her heart as a thought occurred to her then. 

What if the Empress, for all the stories told about her, was just obscuring an even greater threat?


	4. The Advisor

Blake hurried through the halls, absently acknowledging those she passed as briefly as she could. A new visitor to the Palace always brought with it a flurry of activity- a new language to learn, unfamiliar customs to research, half a hundred minute details to mind- but additions brought a host of different problems. The period of adjustment varied, with some settling into a life among others with relative ease while others resisted and even resented their circumstances, and she had a feeling the sisters from Atlas would fall into the latter category.

She couldn’t blame them in any sense. Keenly, she recalled her own arrival at the court of the Empress six years ago alongside Sienna and Adam, the three acting as envoys from Menagerie. Striding into the throne room, the heavy gazes that flicked between them and Yang. At the time, she’d suspected it didn’t bode well, a sign that their attempts at a peaceful solution would be met with laughter and the promise of more blooshed. Only later did she learn that Faunus were regarded with derision in some parts of Vale and Vacuo- something the Empress strictly forbade. Had they shown even a _hint_ of their disdain, her fury would’ve come crashing down upon them. As fate would have it, someone else earned her ire.

Blake slipped through the corridors until she reached the training grounds and instantly cringed while surveying the damage, ears laying back. Yang’s temper could get away from her sometimes but this seemed to surpass almost everything the Faunus had witnessed herself- and that was with Neptune and Sun cleaning things up. She could only imagine what it looked like before.

“Hey, Blake!” The monkey Faunus raised a hand in greeting before looking around, setting down the weight he carried to put it back close to its proper place. It would need a new holder, the shattered remains of the former one being shoved into a corner for the time being, along with other debris haphazardly thrown on top. “It, uh, it looked worse earlier.”

“I’m not sure if that’s comforting,” she replied, stepping into the space. “It could’ve been worse, I guess.”

“I think Ruby talked her down some,” Neptune said, grunting as he lifted a weapons rack, setting it on its feet again. “How’re the new arrivals settling in? On a scale of Pyrrha to Mercury?”

Her ears fell to the side. “I think we need a new scale, and not in a good way.”

Both of them winced, exchanging a look before Sun spoke up. “Anything we can do, ya think?”

“I sincerely doubt it.” A sigh pushed past her lips, shaking her head. “We just need to give them space. I think they’re in shock right now; hopefully, Pyrrha and Coco can bring them some comfort.” She looked around. “Where’d Yang go, anyway? She usually wants updates immediately.”

“Well, she said something about returning Ren’s tea set and talking to Neo, but she didn’t want us cleaning this stuff up; we’re just separating it out.” Neptune and Sun exchanged a shrug before the former continued. “Knowing Neo, she’s already found Yang, so… probably looking for Ren.”

“Who’s going to be at the meal… oh no.” Her eyes widened, unsure if her friend’s muddled state of mind would provide her the clarity to know that it would be a bad idea to track Ren down at present.

Of course, both of them seemed to realized the potential problem as well, with Sun throwing an arm back the way she’d come. “You better hurry; you remember what happened last time!”

Rather than respond, Blake turned and started running back to the other side of the Palace. A shout or two cleared her way effectively, and she called upon the strength Yang had taught her to hurry along, creating replicas of herself that were just solid enough to push off of and change direction without losing her momentum. By the time she reached the dining hall, her lungs were on fire, but she didn’t dare burst into the room without observing first. If her friend and liege _hadn’t_ arrived, it would alarm too many people, and that would just lead into more of a spectacle than anyone would want to deal with at present, least of all Yang.

And if she had…

Blake pushed herself up against a wall, trying to control her breathing while peeking inside, ears canting forward that she might hear the tone of the conversation. Perhaps she could still cut the woman off and apprise her of any further developments, though she doubted that second portion.

Instead, she caught the beginning of a tale she’d heard multiple times over the past few years, one she knew as well as if she’d been there herself, and it put a deep ache in her chest.

“The nature of stories is that they change the more people tell them,” Ruby said, in fluent Atlesian, though her accent made some of the words sound a bit more biting. “If one person tells it over and over again, it becomes more detailed, but if multiple people tell others, and then those people tell even more, the story sometimes… gets things completely wrong. That’s what happened to Yang. So here’s the real story: one you’ve never heard before. I know it because I lived it.”

Her eyes roved over the others- many looked ashamed, guilty themselves of spreading the stories about Yang’s legendary temper before becoming residents of the Palace, while others simply ate in silence, reflecting on the words- but she lingered longest on the Atlesian sisters. The elder looked as stern as before, as rough and jaded, as if no story would be able to sway her, still clad in Yang’s bear skin cloak. Perhaps anger lent her strength in a similar fashion to Yang, though in a much colder manner, and it refused to abate. The younger, on the other hand, seemed equal parts interested and terrified, though she hid it well. Perhaps having the black fabric around her shoulders contrasting her paler features made her thoughts easier to read. Were it not for the way she watched Ruby- like being confronted with a snake poised to strike- and the tension in her shoulders, one might think her merely interested in the telling.

“Mom died when I was young; I don’t have any clear memories of her, but Yang does. I remember Dad, though, but he died a few years later, and it was just the two of us in a little house on Patch, a small island off the northern coast. We didn’t have any other family- Yang’s mom left before Mom died, and our Uncle went with her. We still aren’t sure where.” She paused, taking a moment to eat something and take a sip of water. “The islanders helped- taught us what we didn’t know- but Yang took care of us. She used Dad’s ax to cut wood in the forest and traded it for what we didn’t have; she got strong that way. But then a warlord from the mainland came to Patch. Yang was twelve and I was ten.”

At this point, Blake ducked back a bit, pressing against the wall and closing her eyes. She could still hear the story but hated this part especially- a tale no one told outside the island itself. Much harder to portray the feared Empress as a woman possessed of ruthless bloodlust when she had a reason for her fury.

“The warlord decided I would be his next bride.” How her voice remained steady boggled the mind, truly, as it made the Faunus’ gut turn every time she heard that sentence. “He offered Yang money and goods as a dowry, threatening he’d simply take me if she refused. To everyone else, it was… just how things were; no one would help her and no one tried to dissuade the warlord. But to my sister? It was either lose the only family she had left or die trying to protect it.” She could hear the way others shifted up and down the hall, how some muttered curses under their breath while others gave prayers. Blake herself fell into the latter group. “I don’t think they expected her to say no, to resist, to fight- honestly, to this day, I don’t think she’s told me the full story. I remember them coming up the road to our house, Yang telling me to wait by the door while she went and talked to them, and then… she took Dad’s ax and started swinging. Poured every ounce of rage into the strikes and didn’t stop. Not until each and every one of them was hacked into pieces and she was covered in blood. I’d never seen my sister angry before that day.”

Those who had seen Yang on the field of battle could imagine it without trouble. Some of the ones who resided in the Palace couldn’t, because while the woman’s anger was a terrible sight to behold, it didn’t come out often. With the exception of incidents like the one earlier- those moments when someone deemed that another person had no rights, had no say, could be bought and sold like livestock- not much seemed to provoke her fury. What did, however, roused not a raised voice or a harsh word- it brought upon those who begged it through foolishness a storm of fire. The memory lingered in the back of one’s mind, always a firm reminder of what she could do and an even bigger example of where her heart lie. For all the blood on her hands, Blake found herself hard pressed to say any of it would be better off unspilled.

“Word traveled quickly. The warlord’s successor came to Patch with an entourage of his own, looking to avenge the slain. So, Yang killed them, too, but that time she had help- not just me, either. As an island, we’d relied on the mainland for some goods, and they knew it; they’d levied taxes and extorted the islanders for years. But the moment Yang stood up to one of them… things changed. Seeing Yang’s fury unleashed- it gave them reason to take up arms and vent their anger as well. Without even trying, my sister amassed her first army, but it wasn’t because she wanted a war. She just wanted to keep me safe.” A mirthless chuckle. “It didn’t matter though; a war started anyway. So, we crossed to the mainland and Yang swung that ax until it broke, and then she just… used her fists. She reached deep inside, found an ancient strength we’d only thought existed in legends- she brought it back. And she fought her way until every warrior who’d followed the warlord lay dead or broken before her.”

Peeking again, Blake watched the change in posture between the Atlesians. The elder had both hands curled into sides atop the table, a rigidity to her posture that bespoke of a rage born of sympathy but one she likely wouldn’t admit to aloud. The same sharp look in her eyes from the throne room returned, when she’d obviously put all her effort into remaining silent and still as she was offered up to appease Yang. Well, her _and_ her sister, the latter of whom had her gaze turned away, obviously unnerved. Blake felt for her; she’d had much the same reaction upon first hearing the story. The details of which were hard enough to process on their own; doing so while reconciling what she’d seen with her own eyes presented an all new challenge.

The Faunus looked around, noting that most had continued with their meal, not allowing the story to deter them in the slightest. Those who’d heard it multiple times found a certain amount of resistance to the events, though they’d occasionally pause to look around, as if once again reminded that, just over ten years ago, none of this existed. The empires was stitched together through the actions of others and the _reactions_ of its ruler, not the other way around. How different everything might be were just one thread in the tapestry missing.

She heard someone coming up behind her and glanced back, expecting to find Sun or Neptune. Instead, she found Yang herself, who instantly raised a hand to discourage her from announcing the woman’s presence. Her eyes remained a soft lilac, no longer possessed of the fury from before, and the furrow to her brow seemed to indicate she had an idea about the conversation occurring inside the dining hall. Weariness settled over her, never inclined to think back on those days, but they stood together and listened to the rest of the story in silence.

Ruby picked up the bowl in front of her. “At that point, word began to spread wider, but… pride is a funny thing. No one wanted to tell the story of a twelve year old girl destroying an entire warrior clan because she refused a dowry; it might inspire others to refuse, and Vale was ruled by the warrior clans at the time. The threat to their power- they couldn’t stand it. So they changed the story. They said _she_ was part of the warlord’s clan, had demanded a bride that he also desired, and she defeated him to claim her prize. Or, that she’d been offered a bride by the warlord and killed him in outrage for a subpar offering.” Her head tilted to the side a bit. “I guess that’s why no one really knows she _has_ a sister; I’m usually relegated to some nameless woman among many, but considered the first wife my sister took one way or another.” Her expression pinched into one of equal parts befuddlement and concern. “It’s… strange, honestly. Anyway, that’s how the story changed, and it grew from that; those who changed the story passed it off as fact, and those who heard it took it as truth. It was only a matter of time until someone else thought that an alliance with Yang would be preferable to having her as an enemy.”

“That’s where we come in!” Nora offered, laughing lightly. “Our clan didn’t know who Yang would prefer, and both of us were orphans, so Ren and I got sent to her as tributes. Not really suitors but expected to serve her will. She was _so mad_ , she immediately marched to our clan and wrecked everything! _That_ just scared the rest of the warlords even more!”

“It _was_ a trying time for Vale.” Ren added while refilling his bowl. “No one knew how to appease Yang but they were desperate to try. Unfortunately, they kept spreading the same lies about her, which made all attempts… ill fated, to put it lightly.”

“Hardly a year later, she got _so_ angry, she just started conquering the mainland.” She laughed, one of the few to find a bit of amusement in the woman’s fury- outside of the moment, at least. “Everyone sent to her kept saying how they didn’t have a choice- most were either slaves or close enough, so it was bound to happen, really.”

“Some of us had our families slaughtered so none would protest our servitude,” a familiar rabbit Faunus said from further down the table, sipping lightly at her rice wine. As always, sympathy welled in her heart upon seeing the jagged, torn tip of one ear and the scars along her jaw, but she took comfort in knowing Velvet charged into the resulting battle alongside Yang. She claimed her own revenge.

Coco sighed. “Vacuon nobles didn’t pay much attention to the stories at first, but when the framework of the Empire was laid, they became scared- just as much as the warlords she displaced. Of course, they had only a handful of ideas regarding how to appease her, which didn’t differ to much from what the warlords tried.”

“It helped that the lands she’d taken from the first clan had provided Patch with a stable means of sharing resources, so no one felt inclined to dissuade her. The prospect of gaining more didn’t hurt, either.” Ren shrugged. “Some didn’t like the fact that Yang immediately outlawed any form of slavery but, when faced with upsetting her, they wisely chose to accept her word as law.”

“I always find it so strange, every time I hear the story,” Pyrrha said, contemplating her cup for a moment. “One would think the truth would find its way out at some point, or at least people would realize sending tributes to Yang only upsets her. The minds of fools are impossible to comprehend.”

At that, their resident seamstress threw her head back and laughed. “In their defense… it’s never _not_ worked before.”

Murmurs flew around the hall and Blake snuck a glance towards her friend. The conversation inevitably came up- the story, the tale of how each of them came, these topics were covered every time someone was sent to Yang, and sometimes in just passing reminiscence- and it always hurt just a bit to see how much the past decade or so weighed on her. The stories always painted her as someone who enjoyed the fires of battle, who found no greater joy than bathing in the blood of her enemies, but Yang often felt conflicted after each campaign.

Did she regret the battles? No, never. But some part of her wished there was a little less pain in the world, a little less cause to march into a war whenever confronted with that agony, and she genuinely mourned for those caught in the crossfire.

“You truly expect us to believe she’s a benevolent savior,” Winter said, obviously bristling with stone cold fury.

“We’re just telling you the truth; what you believe is up to you,” Ruby replied with a knowing little smile. “Come to your own conclusion.”

“They shouldn’t have told the story this soon.” Yang sighed, turning her head slightly. Her mother tongue seemed so at odds with the Atlesian being spoken in the dining hall and it took Blake a moment to mentally switch gears. “She’s right. They’re trying to make excuses for me… maybe I don’t deserve that.”

“They need to know the _real_ you,” she replied, ears falling. In many ways, Blake understood where the Atlesians were coming from; she’d been afraid herself. Terrified, even- that’s why she ran in the first place. But in giving the woman a chance, she found a fast friend, one who would never betray her. She also understood that the sisters needed that, too. “What they’ve seen is just a sliver. If they understand the context, they’ll come around.”

Lilac eyes moved towards her, filled with a special sort of sadness tinged with wry mirth. “You think that’s all it takes?”

“It’s what helped me.”

“Okay. Let’s try that.” Yang moved forward, entering the dining hall with little fanfare, most merely acknowledging her presence with a tilt of the head. It was generally understood that, here, they walked beside each other as equals or were treated as guests while the woman played host. Never would they use her title or defer to her and they certainly wouldn’t pause their meal simply because she’d entered the room.

But the Atlesians stiffened, their gazes immediately drawn to the woman. The look in their eyes- they were watching a snake coiling to strike, a wolf licking its bloody jowls, and nothing short.

“Yang?” Ruby seemed a bit surprised by her appearance. “You hungry?”

“Not really,” she replied, rounding the table to stand close to the elder Atlesian. Not within striking distance but making it clear she wanted nothing between them as she switched languages. “I would like to apologize for my actions earlier. I should’ve been more mindful of the situation.”

“The forgiveness you seek is pointless.” Winter spoke curtly, not bothering to look at Yang. “It changes nothing.”

“You’re right but that doesn’t mean I should act like I didn’t make a mistake.”

A grunt. “You think killing him was a mistake, is that it?”

“No.” The rest of the dining hall had fallen silent in the ensuing moments, what dull roar had occupied the air at the beginning of their exchange dying quickly. “I will not apologize for killing him; he trespassed against the rules of courtesy in my Palace, my home. There are consequences for those actions.” Her hand moved- and no one could miss the way the younger sister flinched slightly, lacking her elder’s composure- to withdraw some parchment from her belt. “However, my response was rash. Although he broke the rules of my home, his transgressions against you two were worse, and my actions denied you justice.”

Winter turned to look at her, the ice cold facade slipping just enough for a genuine spark of fury to shine bright in her eyes. It worried Blake, and her hand lightly moved- just a hair before she caught herself. She didn’t think anyone would take kindly to her drawing a weapon at present, regardless of her desire to err on the side of caution. During her time in the Empire, she’d seen enough fantastic feats of combat prowess to never discount any opponent, even an unarmed one. The woman standing beside her happened to be the chief example of that.

“Is that all you came to say?”

Wordlessly, Yang held out the parchment, taking a few steps closer only to hand it off before retreating back to her previous distance. Although hesitant, the Atlesian opened it and scanned the contents, lips curling into a frown.

“So you’ve uncovered his plot.” Rolling it back up, she tossed it on the table. “What justice are we to endure for this transgression?”

“Were you aware of his plans?”

“You speak as if the man had anything other than his ambitions to guide him,” she replied. “We were never privy to specifics- not even our brother. Father always believed himself capable of outmaneuvering every opponent; it never occurred to him to share anything he deemed worthy of hoarding.”

“I see.” Yang turned her head. “Blake, give her your sword.”

“What?” She immediately stiffened, terrified by what her friend might suggest next. “You can’t be-”

“Blake.” Again, in the same tone, but a slower cadence, the words came. “Give her your sword.”

Hesitantly, she reached for the blade strapped to her back, pulling it free with a sound that made her gut clench uncomfortably, purely due to the circumstances. After so many years, she didn’t shy away from conflict, but this seemed ill advised at best and begging catastrophe at worst. Some part of her understood the lack of danger- no matter how brilliant a swordsman, neither Atlesian could hope to slay the woman who regularly used only her fists in battle- but she worried after her friend all the same, even as she turned the sword to offer the handle to Winter.

Without hesitation, the woman took it into her hand and stood up, raising the tip until it lightly tapped against Yang’s chin.

Yet, she didn’t falter or balk.

“You expect me to kill you. Is that it?” The Atlesian narrowed her eyes. “Is this your idea of justice?”

“The better question is: is it yours?” With the pointed steel hovering just a hair’s breadth from her skin, she spoke calmly while maintaining eye contact. “You’ve heard the story; you should know that I have no qualms killing any who would try to harm my family. In your place, I wouldn’t hesitate. And were you to strike me down, deeming me a threat to yours, I would not blame you. No one here would.” Briefly, she looked around and Blake found her gaze drawn to sweeping across the room as well. Everyone else watched anxiously, some more openly worried than others. Only Pyrrha and Ruby appeared calm- the latter because she trusted Yang’s judgment, the former because she understood the woman’s code. She wished she possessed half their individual composure at present. “If you believe me a threat, I advise you take action now.”

For a moment, the room was still.

Then, Winter lunged forward, twisting her wrist as the tip of the blade shot past the woman’s neck. Yang didn’t flinch, though her eyes narrowed briefly, the only outward sign of her pain. Blake watched as a few drops of blood welled up from a long, thin cut that stretched across the side of her neck. Probably only a finger’s length and shallow, but the intent remained clear: had she wanted it to be, it could’ve very well been a killing blow- or an attempted one, at any rate.

“That man… was not family.” Slowly, she withdrew the blade, allowing her arm to fall to her side. “But he was blood. I have taken some of yours in recompense. As far as I’m concerned, _that_ is justice.” Then, Winter scoffed, looking over to Ruby. “Your tricks will not work on me, Your Imperial Majesty. You’d arm me in the presence of your sister? Did you expect me to be as blind as my father, baiting me into attacking her so you can feel justified in striking me down?”

“Ruby had nothing to fear from you.” Turning her head to look at her sister, Yang smiled softly. “Speaking of which, it’s getting late.”

“Aw, I thought I had the late shift tonight.” With a sigh, she set down her bowl, having continued to quietly eat after her sister’s appearance. “I guess I should get some rest, then. Goodnight everyone!”

The quiet responses were quickly overwhelmed when Ruby disappeared in a flurry of rose petals, both Atlesians scrambling back in shock and making a ruckus of it. Winter immediately brought the borrowed sword back up, as if preparing to ward off a strike, and Weiss ducked behind her, weakly bringing up her fists seeing as she was bereft of a weapon herself. 

“Arming you only put myself in danger,” Yang said, reaching up to wipe the blood from her neck with her thumb, revealing the cut had already healed, her skin showing the barest hints of a scar. The unspoken ‘and only because I let it’ seemed to translate easily. “Again, I apologize for my actions earlier and for being… less than articulate. I hope you’re both able to make the most of your time with us.” Her gaze shifted to the rest of the dining hall. “If anyone has need of me, seek me out.” She turned, making as if to leave, but stopped short. "Oh, and Ren? I... broke one of your cups-"

"I thought you might," he said with an easy smile. "I have extras for that set. It's no trouble."

Begrudgingly, she gave him a little smile and a nod. "Right. Thanks." 

With that, the woman turned and left while the rest of the room resumed their meal, though some lightly commented that the food had grown cold during the interruption. Carefully, Pyrrha reached out- not through any physical means, of course- and took hold of the sword, easing it from Winter’s grip and returning it to Blake.

“What... “ The elder sister blinked, shaking her head slightly.

Weiss, on the other hand, had no problems articulating her surprise. “What did we just- what just _happened_.”

“The ‘ancient strength’ Ruby mentioned, the sort that Yang possesses- it’s a skill that can be learned, and she’s taught each of us how to develop our own strength.” Trying to hide a grin, Blake stepped back quickly but left behind a shadow of herself, a clone just solid enough to take a blow but not much else. Stepping around it, she watched as shock and perhaps a slight amount of horror played over the Atlesians expressions, likely confronted with what might as well be witchcraft to them. Waving a hand, she dispelled the shadow as it turned into a fine mist that dissipated almost instantly. “This is part of what you will learn in the next five months. Not just the means through which you can live anywhere in the Empire but a means of defending yourself as well- from _any_ enemy.”

She slid her blade into its sheath, ears flicking as she parsed the muttered words under Winter’s breath- a colorful curse, if she didn’t miss her guess.

“Until then, we’re simply at your mercy.” The younger of the two tried to compose herself but the tremble in her shoulders painted a picture of someone just barely holding it together.

Instantly, the Faunus’ features relaxed, ears falling. “No, you’re not. I know you don’t want to believe me- I know it feels impossible. I know because I was in your place, once, and everyone here has a similar story. Discarded or exploited, betrayed by those we trusted- we bear scars of our own. I won’t say any of us had it worse or better; there’s no measurement to these things. But _please_ believe me when I say you’re not among enemies here. We only hope for you to succeed.”

“And how do you define success?” Winter narrowed her eyes, remaining suspicious regardless of her pleas.

“The same as Yang does,” she replied. “Freedom, the power to claim your life as your own and do what you wish with it, and the means to support yourself without fear.”

Weiss looked at her then- a piercing gaze that pinned her in place. Where her sister seemed committed to skepticism, hope shone brightly in her eyes. “Is that something _you_ possess?”

Briefly, she paused- not because she didn’t know her answer but because she wanted to give it the proper weight- and then spoke, softly. “Yeah. If I wanted to, I could go back to Menagerie at any time or move to Vacuo. I can fish, hunt, and farm or I could travel as far as my feet can take me. I really could pursue anything that caught my interest and I could do it without hiding my ears.” A chuckle, slightly bitter thanks to past experiences, slipped past her lips. “I think I’d still find some who abide Yang’s laws grudgingly, who might look down on me, but I know I can protect myself and I know where to go to find help were I to need it.” Then, she smiled. “I don’t stay because I have nowhere else to go; I stay because I’ve found a family here that’s just as dear to me as my blood. It’s one I’ve chosen myself.”

Blake thought for a moment that she’d managed to soothe the woman’s unease but her expression slowly changed into of cool indifference, offering a curt nod. “I see.”

Her ears sagged. Somehow, she felt like she’d accomplished the _opposite_ of what she’d intended.

“Well!” Coco clapped her hands together. “I think that’s been _more_ than enough excitement for one night.” Getting to her feet, she motioned towards the sisters. “Do you need help finding your room?”

“We’ve yet to memorize the path,” Winter replied with a clipped tone.

Blake opened her mouth to try saying something else but Pyrrha discreetly shook her head, making a motion for her to leave. Although she _wanted_ to disregard the advice, the Faunus found herself pressing her lips into a thin line and giving a nod, turning to head out of the dining hall without another word. Clearly, her presence hadn’t done any good- neither had Yang’s, unless she missed her guess- and it would be best to give them a few days to adjust before trying to talk to them again. In the meantime, she’d have Sun and Neptune act as messengers; it would keep them busy, at the very least.

Eventually, she found her way back to the training grounds, where Yang had made decent progress in disposing of the wreckage she’d caused. The woman had opted to take a break, it seemed, sitting on a mostly intact bench with her elbows on her knees, her crown grasped in her hands while lilac eyes studied her reflection.

She felt sympathy for her friend. Even at her worst, Yang only had the best of intentions at heart, but that so rarely translated when it mattered most. Blake couldn’t just let the woman wallow in her thoughts, though, and approached the bench, sitting down on the other end. It wobbled but managed to hold them both.

“You know, I still get worried every time you pull a stunt like that,” she said in fluid Valen, bumping their shoulders together. Usually, the action would draw at least a grin, but now didn’t seem to be one of those times. “One of these days, you’re going to leave yourself open to someone who can _actually_ hurt you.”

Yang sighed. “You know that’s almost impossible.”

“You’re strong and resilient; not invincible.”

“No… that’s more Pyrrha’s thing, huh?” She shook her head, turning to look at the Faunus with sadness in her eyes. “Do you think they’ll be alright?”

“I’d like to think so.” Blake looked up at the sky above them, the night chill settling in and raising goosebumps across her arms. Belatedly, she thought about her cloak but decided she’d likely have to wait to collect it- _if_ she ever got it back. She wouldn’t bother in the event Weiss became attached to it; sometimes, it helped to cling to something inanimate. “It’s a difficult adjustment for everyone, at least at first. You’ve been through this so many times, it feels like it’s dragging, but at least they’re talking. There’s been more than a few who refused to speak to you- refused to even _eat_ , remember?”

A wince as she turned her head away. “ _They_ were reacting to wounded pride, not me murdering their father.”

“But more than a few times, you killed their _slaver_.” She pointed out, feeling the distinction important. “I think Winter was being honest with her disdain of the man and Weiss seems of a like mind. It’s probably the series of events sparking their resistance, stretching back further than either of us can see.” Her brow furrowed, a frown touching her lips. “I mean, they were Princesses, with a kingdom of their own they hoped to govern, and suddenly found themselves as tokens used for barter. The looks on their faces when their… _clothes_ were stripped away.”

The description seemed too generous but focusing on her disdain for the accuracy of her word choice distracted her from the revulsion forcing bile into the back of her throat. After years serving as Yang’s advisor, she’d watched several pathetic attempts to curry the woman’s favor, but none had so blatantly debased another person, let alone _two_ . Even those who offered some manner of servant didn’t… _strip them naked_ in the middle of the throne room, in front of so many people. That level of humiliation- and to inflict it upon one’s own children.

She was pulled from her thoughts by her friend’s thoughtful hum. “The looks on their faces?”

“Yeah. I… saw the looks in their eyes just before you told us to look away- what you did to their father shocked them but I don’t think it compares to the… rage and pain from what _he_ did to them.”

“I… didn’t even notice.” Yang put a hand to her face. “I just-”

“You reacted,” she replied, shrugging. “You tend to go a little… blind once you’re incensed.”

Sighting heavily, she shifted, causing the wood beneath them to groan ominously. Without saying a word, they both agreed to stand up. “I’d planned on giving them space… maybe I’m still charging blind.” Lilac eyes landed on her. “Can you keep an eye on them? Not intrusively just- if there’s any trouble, I’d like to know.”

“Of course.” Blake looked around. “Are you going to clean all this up tonight?”

“Yeah.” She scratched at the back of her head before settling her crown back in its place, snug around her temples. “I have the late shift anyway. Might as well use the time to clean up the mess I made.” Then Yang looked at her, offering a smile- a genuine one, even if smaller than usual. “Thanks, Blake.”

“Anytime,” she replied, pulling her in for a brief hug, which was returned.

“You should get some sleep.” A helpless shrug of her shoulders. “There’s still plenty of work to do tomorrow.”

“Right.” Confident the woman was at least in a better frame of mind, she gave a light punch to her arm. “Try not to overdo it tonight.”

“No promises.”

As Blake walked away, she made a mental note to keep a close eye not only on their newest guests but on her best friend as well. Tensions would be running high for some time and one of her unofficial titles was staying in the loop. Perhaps she didn’t always know the right words to say but she’d at least to be able to find the person who _could_.

The coming weeks would consist her of spending a fair amount of time in the shadows, flitting around the Palace. Hopefully, the Atlesians would come around and everything would settle that they might turn their attentions to integrating Atlas with the Empire. The long list of considerations threatened to make her head spin but she pushed aside those thoughts for the moment.

One thing at a time.


End file.
